


Time Times Three

by StormcloudK



Category: Blake's 7, Doctor Who - Tenth Doctor, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Blake's 7 Time replaces episode S301, Dr Who time - Tenth Doctor & Donna, Gen, ST:TNG time season 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 163,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormcloudK/pseuds/StormcloudK
Summary: A crossover fiction, between three very different fandoms.  In the Star Trek universe the United Federation of Planets are mostly seen from the point of view of being the good guys, with careful Prime Directives to preserve native civilisations they encounter.   In the universe of Blake’s 7, the Federation is run by power hungry, ruthless people such as Servalan, cold-blooded politicians whose only interest is to serve themselves, and a military certainly in bed with the moguls.   In the Doctor’s universe, the Time Lord spends much of his time, defending the little people, saving the day, and averting all sorts of disasters from all sorts of aliens and circumstances.  What will happen when they meet – and why did they meet at all?





	1. The trouble with time...

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters, nor am I affiliated in any way to any of the fandoms, though I enjoy watching them all. This is the first fic I have written here, and the first for many years. Please be kind. I would also like to reach out to a Beta reader, if anyone would like to come on board and lend a hand or two?

“Careful of where you are putting your feet Geordi, the crash landing rendered this particular area of the building inherently unsafe,” Lt Commander Data said picking his way carefully through the rubble strewn floor of what looked to have been a warehouse of some sort, long since abandoned.

“Relax Data, I’m being super careful,” Geordi replied, from the other side of the hallway, using his visor to scan the area around him. “I’m detecting a couple of faint heat sources 150 metres south, south west of my current position. One much fainter than the other - could be a body.”

Data obligingly swung his tricorder to the right of him, triangulating his search from Geordi’s given position. “I am picking up faint life signs,” he agreed.

“Life signs? Are you sure?” Commander Riker, the third member of the away team asked. He had entered the building from the rear, after a falling timber blocked the entrance Data and Geordi used.

“Yes Commander, I am sure,” Data confirmed.

“I’m definitely seeing something too,” Geordi added. “Although from the steep trajectory of the life pod as it entered the atmosphere I would have thought it was impossible.”

Unseen Commander William Riker nodded. He had privately thought this mission a waste of time after seeing the escape pod glow white hot to the point where the nose cone seemed to melt as it knifed through the atmosphere.

“I wonder where they came from?” Geordi mused, still walking forward.

Before Riker or Data could reply, a shudder raced through the building. The away team instinctively ducking at the sound of creaking timbers and cracking concrete, a heavy scatter of debris and other rubble rained down, filling the air with thick particles of dust.

“I suggest we leave speculation until we’re back on board,” Riker suggested, hastily backing away from a hole, which had appeared near his feet. “This whole building could collapse at any moment.”

Resuming his search, Data strong-armed a beam, which had fallen directly in front of him and ducked beneath another. Metres away from the Lt Commander, Geordi climbed a newly formed pile of rubble that offered no real foothold, using his hands to stabilise his decent.

“I see it. I can see the escape pod,” Geordi cried a moment later, sliding down a pile of bricks surrounding the vehicle. “Most of the aft section appears to be completely buried by the building. From what I can see of it, I don’t recognise the design. It appears triangular and… wow, it’s still warm to the touch. No sign of radiation or particle emissions. As you would expect there’s lots of damage, much of the building has collapsed on it. I can’t do much from here; I’ll need to make my way round to the other side.”

“Can you see the occupant?” Riker demanded. “I can’t get through to you from this side; I’m going to try another avenue. Another shower of stones, dust, and rubble greeted his statement. “We can’t stay here much longer.”

“No I’m afraid not Commander, as I said the damage is too extensive.”

Data pushed through another crawl space, and caught sight of the silver pod for the first time. “Geordi, from my current position I can see you and one of the occupants,” he stated. “There is no movement, but there is faint life signs. I cannot get to you just yet however, my way is blocked by a steel girder of some sort, I am attempting to force my way through.”

“Careful Data,” Geordi commented, climbing and slipping round to the other side of the escape pod. “I can see him too. Hang on.”

Reaching the prone victim Geordi searched for a pulse. “He’s male, Human or humanoid. Alive, but unconscious, breathing rapid but shallow, one of his legs and one arm are at a funny angle, definitely broken,” he said surveying the slim dark haired man in front of him, half in half out of the escape pod. It looked as if the occupant had pushed the escape hatch open, and then collapsed. “No uniform or any insignia.”

“Is there anyone else?” Riker suggested, still trying to find a way through the rubble.

“Not that I can see Commander. “It’s definitely an escape pod, designed for a single occupant, the only other thing I can inside see is a metal storage box. A couple of feet long, a fraction less wide, and half that high, with a carrying handle.”

The building creaked again, causing more rubble and dust to fall just as Data reached the crashed craft. “We do not have long,” he warned, sweeping his tricorder over the unconscious victim. “The survivor looks to have a few internal injuries too; we need leave as soon as possible.”

Activating his combadge Riker spoke to the _Enterprise_. “Riker to bridge. We have found one occupant of the escape pod. Male, unconscious but alive, in need of urgent medical attention; the only thing he has with him is a metal box.”

“Any indication where he came from?” Picard queried, answering the call. “We have scanned the area, but other than the temporal anomaly we detected earlier there are no signs of any space craft.”

“No Captain. He’s not in any kind of uniform and there is no insignia.” Geordi added.

Lifting the storage box out of the way by its handle, Data peered into the cockpit. “Limited controls, simple vector and speed indicators. Friction breaks, a homing signal beacon, which is no longer active. No indication of...”

The warehouse gave an ominous rumble, metal groaning loudly.

“Finish your report on-board Lt Commander.” Picard advised. “Transporter room stand by. Sick bay, Dr Crusher your services will be needed.”

“Riker to _Enterprise_ four to beam up.”

“Acknowledged Commander.”

Bending down beside the survivor Geordi felt the tingle of the transport beam take him, just as a deafening cracking sound came from above, as what was left of the warehouse ceiling started to tumble down around them. Ducking to protect the survivor, Geordi drew a breath, coughing as the transporter beam released him back on the ship. “Boy, that was close”, he said straightening.

Data stepped down from the transporter pad carrying the storage box, just as the transporter doors whooshed open to admit Beverly Crusher and an orderly with a gurney. “The Captain said I had a patient?”

“Yes, over here doctor,” Geordi confirmed, “Commander I had a thought about pinpointing the origin of the escape bod by reversing the trajectory, what do you think?” he asked turning to Riker, however, the First Officer was not standing beside him, as he should have been. “Where’s Commander Riker?”

All activity in the transporter room stopped for a split second.

“Has anyone seen Commander Riker since we beamed aboard?” Data asked, taking command immediately.

“You know I haven’t,” Geordi acknowledged.

“Neither have I,” Data confirmed, crossing the room quickly. Putting the case he’d been carrying down, he addressed the transporter operator. “Lieutenant, please confirm that you transported four individuals aboard.”

“I had a lock on you all,” the duty officer said quickly checking through the settings on his console.

“That is not what I asked.”

Geordi joined Data at the transporter console, the man they’d rescued forgotten as he walked across the room. “Is the Commander in the pattern buffer?”

“I can try again sir,” the duty officer said activating the controls once more.

Nothing happened.

“Power fluctuations?”

“No sir, green lights across the board.”

“There were no energy readings from the life capsule, I checked myself before I approached,” Geordi told Data.

Data nodded briskly and tapped his combadge. “Data to bridge. Commander Riker has not beamed aboard with the rest of the party, are you able to raise him from the bridge?”

Struck on the head by a glancing blow, the First Officer had acted on pure instinct, diving through the broken window to his left as the building completely collapsed above him, dust, debris and glass raining over a wide area as the warehouse fell with a concussive boom.

Riker half rolled, have stumbled to a stop behind a stack of disused cates, and various flora, his ears ringing from the force of the blow to his head, feeling dizzy and disorientated with a monumental headache. Moments later an arrow landed close to his right foot, burying itself in the dirt. “What the hell?” he exclaimed, shaking his head to clear his vision as he reached for his combadge. “Riker to _Enterprise_,” he said in a fierce whisper. “I’m not sure what happened, but I could really do with that teleport right now.”

There was no reply, just a dead-toned chirp of the combadge.

Undaunted Riker tried again as he reached across his right hip for his phaser, which wasn’t there, his fingers brushing up against an empty holster. “Riker to _Enterprise, _come in _Enterprise_,” the Commander tried again, fighting the urge to do more than just stare incredulously as a second arrow missed his nose by a few centimetres and a third hit his makeshift hideout with a thud. “If you can hear this, I’m under fire, lost my weapon and I’m pinned down some 300 metres behind the building the life capsule demolished. I need immediate beam out.”

Another arrow dug into the dirt by Riker’s right foot, followed by a rock.

There came a war cry from somewhere just beyond the ruined warehouse as several figures immerged dressed in some kind of leather and metal armour, bows already nocked with arrows, spears being held high as they charged his position.

An arrow launched in their direction from behind Riker, followed in quick succession by two more, both hitting and dropping their targets with dull thuds and flurry of dust.

“Quickly now, follow me if you want to live,” a female voice said from just behind his right ear as a slight dark skinned young woman with short hair, impossibly wearing a white toga suggested popping up beside him.

Riker drew a breath, “Not that I’m not grateful or anything, and I am, but who are you and where on earth did you come from?” he asked turning towards her.

The young woman regarded him with lively curiosity. “You’ve hit your head, probably have concussion,” she announced. “There’ll be time enough for questions later. Come now.” With that, she ducked round a pile of crates and rubble and started running directly towards another derelict building a couple of hundred metres away.

A further rock and now a spear embedding itself in the makeshift barrier behind which Riker was hiding decided the First Officer. Head pounding Riker had no choice but to scramble to his feet and run after his would-be rescuer. He’d been unable to reach the _Enterprise_ and while he knew it was likely that the Captain would send down a search party to rescue him; he just needed to stay alive until then.

The young woman was as fast as a hare, already running lightly through the building she’d just entered, and out the other side into a courtyard area, paved with flagstones and overgrown vegetation. Riker’s boots slapped hard on the ground, echoing round them as he followed her.

“You make too much noise! Quickly now,” the young woman urged, making straight for the far corner of the enclosed space. She knelt down to lift, what at first glance, appeared to be a manhole cover, but was actually an air lock hatch.

Panting Riker skidded to a stop. “The sewers?” he questioned.

The sound of many running footsteps and furious war cries, just behind him answered his question, and gave him little choice but to follow directions. Climbing quickly into the hole at his feet, Riker was surprised to find well-used stone steps leading down.

“Hurry, and watch your head and footing, you’re too tall and the floor is slippery in places, it gets quite damp after the rains.”

“Has it rained recently?”

“Yes, about five days ago, what is it about you that you don’t understand the word hurry; they’re almost upon us now!”

Moving cautiously down a few steps, spurred by the urgency in the young woman’s voice, Riker turned just in time to see her step in behind him and pull the hatch closed behind her. She activated some kind of locking mechanism with a twist of something followed by an electronic bleep. Walking down a few steps around and in front of the Commander, she turned to scrutinise him further.

“Well, are you coming or not? Or do you intend to stand there all day?”

Hesitating Riker looked back at the hatch. “Won’t they try to follow us?” he asked concerned, neither the lock nor the hatch had looked particularly thick or strong.

“Oh yes, they’ll try, most probably anyway. But they’ve never managed to breakthrough a dead lock seal as yet; I don’t see why today should be any different.”

Feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him, Riker stayed where he was, until the young woman reached up to lay a light hand on his arm. “Come on, this way,” she said her tone more gentle than before.

With a sigh and slight nod, Riker agreed; following her down several more carved stone steps wondering what kind of rabbit hole he’d fallen into.

A few metres later the steps and hole in the ground opened out into a stone clad vault. The walls appeared damp in places, but everything was neat and tidy. There were a couple of chairs, a cot, a wooden table, couple of shelves and a console full of electrical equipment, and not a speck of dust anywhere.

Walking across the room the young woman activated one of the consoles and stared critically at the monitor. There had to be a hidden camera somewhere Riker realised, as he saw the image of the entrance they’d just passed through surrounded on all sides by four burly men, trying to use rocks and their spears to smash their way into the vault.

Grinning to herself, the young woman flipped a switch and a jolt of pure blue energy sent those closest to the hatchway flying backwards, one hit his head and lay still. The young woman nodded in apparent satisfaction. “Good, that will hold them,” she said turning towards Riker. “Hungry? Running around a bit is quite exhilarating don’t you find, but I’m always famished afterwards,” she said conversationally.

Still assessing his new situation, and wondering if the girl were a threat to him as well, Riker shook his head. “I’m good thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” the woman replied with a shrug walking towards a bowl of fruit on one of the shelves Riker had just noticed. She picked up something resembling an orange pear and bit into it enthusiastically. Pink juice dribbled down her chin. “Perhaps something to drink instead? I’m a poor host not to offer you something. I’m Dayna by the way.”

“Danya,” Riker repeated, still standing nearly in the middle of the room watching her wearily.

“Yes that’s right, and you are?”

“Riker, Will Riker.”

“Well Riker, Will Riker, why don’t you take yourself a seat before you fall? Head injuries usually bleed a lot, but look generally worse than they are. Here drink this and let me take a look.”

“There’s no need,” Riker suggested, taking the metal cup of water he was offered and sitting down in a chair anyway. He watched as Danya took another bite of her fruit before setting it aside. Opening a cupboard door in front of her Danya reached inside for a cloth, which she splashed some water and approached him. “Your people are hunting you?” Riker asked.

Dayna laughed, then made a scoffing noise, reaching out to dab the cloth against Riker’s head. “My people? Don’t be silly! Do I even look like them?” she asked. “They’re Sorrens.”

“Sorrens?” Riker said wincing as the cloth touched his head. He pulled away slightly, but Dayna followed, dabbing at the wound once more.

“Yes, the natives of this planet. I’m from Earth by the way. I live here with my father. He brought me here when I was just a baby. Hold still.”

Mentally gritting his teeth Riker did as he was told. “There’s just the two of you?” he asked looking around him again.

“Yes, and Iesha, she’s a native of this planet, but had live with us since she was just a baby.”

“So there are three of you?”

“Yes. I don’t think the wound is too bad; you probably have a large headache though. Hold this against it for a little while until the bleeding stops,” Dayna said producing a dry cloth, holding it against Riker’s head, and then putting his right hand up in an effort to get him to do as she’d directed.

Riker took the cloth, looked at the fresh blood now on it, refolded it into a tighter pad than did as he’d been told, resting his aching head partially against his hand. “So the three of you?” he tried.

“Yes, just we three. You are curious aren’t you?”

“It’s not every day you get hit on the head, have a building nearly fall on top of you and get chased by a group of men with bows and arrows,” Riker responded.

Dayna laughed at him. “You’re not from round here then. It’s just another boring day for me – until you and the other escape pods arrived.”

“Others?” Riker was on his feet immediately.

“Relax,” Dayna moved back towards him, holding out his mug of water. “I didn’t get to them in time, they didn’t make it. I’m sorry. Were they close friends of yours?”

Riker shook his head. “No.” he answered truthfully. The temporal anomaly, which had first caught the Enterprise’s attention, had not shown the presence of any large vessels. They had come within 150 km and held steady, watching the fascinating light display while Data, Geordi and the whole science division had collected as much data and information as possible. They science division had been gathering information and making their observations for around twenty minutes when they had seen a single escape pod streak past them, spinning wildly and attempt to make a crash landing on the planet he was now on. “There’s been some kind of space battle?” he tried, looking for information.

Dayna shrugged. “They may well have been. But not from here. The natives are not technologically advanced enough; you saw how they reacted to a simple electrical charge.”

Riker gestured around him. “There must be others on… Sarren, did you call this planet?”

“Sorren,” Dayna corrected immediately. “Yes I suppose there must,” she agreed, showing little interest.

“The people who build this?” Riker pressed.

“Our hidey hole?” Danya laughed. “No, this place has been here forever, there are dozens just like it scattered about. Iesha and I used to play in them as kids.”

“You don’t live here?”

“Here, no, of course not, it’s rather primitive, and as I’ve said before prone to being damp, not much use for storage. But useful to watch the natives.”

On screen, the Sorrens had once again regrouped and were bashing at the lock. Danya sent Riker a mischievous grin and activated the electricity field once more. “There, that should be enough to dissuade them, give them half an hour or so and they’ll creep away like they usually do. We’ll be able to leave safely then.”

Riker instinctively touched his combadge.

Dayna looked at him thoughtfully. “Your communication device won’t work down here, even if the dust didn’t short its components. These rocks contain a natural em-dampening field. Useful as it increases the strength of the mag lock at the entrance tenfold, but rubbish at communicating through. Another half hour and we should be clear, you can try again once we reach the surface, or you can come home with me.”

Night was falling fast as Vila stumbled through the trees. Earlier on, he had tried to follow one of the planets two suns in the hope of finding someone, but both were quickly setting now, dipping in and out of sight beyond the level of the forest canopy, creating long shadows and dark places. Vila’s wandering was becoming quickly aimless. He was tired, thirsty and in a fair amount of pain, all down his left side. Hugging his left arm tightly to his chest, his wrist was at a bit of an odd angle, Vila sighed as the recess he’d been walking in widened out into a kind of basin, muddy, rock filled grassy banks surrounding him on almost every side.

With a sigh, and a decided lack of enthusiasm Vila picked what he thought looked to be the easiest bank to climb and made his way up slowly, choosing his footholds with care. His head peaking over the ridge, Vila suddenly brightened, feeling better almost instantly. A way off in the distance the horizon was much brighter than before, and as he looked, he could swear he could see a hover car taking off from the roof of a building. Civilisation, finally, all he needed to do now was get there.

Both suns had more or less set, by the time Vila had made it to the outskirts of the small town. Dark shadows all around him, Vila ran across several fields to reach his goal. There was reassurance in the nondescript building, starting to dot the landscape around him. Buildings meant people. People meant rescue, if he were clever. Most people were easy to read, especially for a talented thief. Moreover, where there were people there were usually bars or taverns, certainly many opportunities to score some money and have a little fun, and get his wrist sorted too.

Slipping silently between the space between two buildings Vila surreptitiously touched the teleport bracelet around his wrist, hidden away beneath his jacket. He had tried half a dozen times to reach the _Liberator_ but had received no reply. He told himself he wasn’t that worried, yet. Zen had said the damage to the ship had been extensive and would need 72 hours to repair the damage to his hull and systems. The oxygen had been running thin, Zen counting down to zero before the life support was shut down – just about the same time Vila had jettisoned his life pod.

72 hours. He’d spent most of the day wondering round lost in the woods, so say 60 hours left. 60 hours to have a little fun and get some R & R. With neither Blake nor Avon none the wiser. The thought cheered Vila up as he skirted round a couple of rubbish bins, slipping further into the town.

Maybe he could find a casino if he were lucky.

Rounding another corner Vila ducked into another alleyway. Windows were starting to appear on the sides of the buildings now. Most were unlit, but there was a warm and inviting glow coming from behind the blue door of one of them, set inside a small porch. Vila didn’t find it odd that there were no other porches sticking out from the sides of the buildings down the dimly lit alleys. The light from the porch was warm and inviting.

Reaching the door, Vila tried the handle, to his surprise it opened at his touch.

Vila went in.

“So what do you think then?” Donna asked twirling herself around in front of the Doctor.

“Very nice,” the Doctor agreed, not looking up from the gizmo he was adjusting with various bits and pieces and his sonic screwdriver.

Donna stopped hands on hips. “Doctor!”

“Yes, as I said, very nice.”

Scowling, Donna moved to stand behind the Time Lord and put her hands over his eyes.

“Oi!” he complained.

“What colour is it?” Donna said patiently, amusement evident in her tone.

Caught up in putting together his clever little thingamy, the Doctor was completely baffled. “What colour is what?” he asked.

“My dress, you idiot!”

“Yes.”

“I said it was nice.” The Doctor squirmed slightly.

“You did, so, what was the colour of it?”

“Donna,” the Doctor complained.

“Doctor” Donna replied mimicking the Doctors tone.

Recognising the fact that Donna wasn’t going to give in, the Time Lord sighed. “All right, it’s a very nice blue dress,” he tried. Many of Donna’s outfits were in fact blue, one of her favourite colours; it was a safe bet that she was wearing that colour now.

“Ha!”

Damn it. Not the colour she was wearing this time. “It’s yellow,” the Doctor offered. “A lovely colour yellow, sunny, bright, vibrant the colour of… ow! What was that for?” he complained as Donna flicked a finger against the side of his head.

“That was not an ‘ow’,” Donna said laughing, moving to kick the Doctor not too hard on one shin.

“Ow! Again! What was that for that time?”

“Yellow?”

“Yellow? Yellow’s a nice colour. Did you know the entire ruling family of Targathian only ever wear yellow, they consider it good luck.”

“Good for them. I bet they’re not redheads though. Redheads do… NOT… wear yellow!”

“Green then,”

“Now you’re reaching.”

“Orange, purple, brown, mauve, pink… no wait, forget I said pink, you would never, ever wear pink!”

Openly laughing at the Doctor’s whinging tone, Donna removed her hands. “You chump!”

“Lemon, tangerine….” The Doctor continued without opening his eyes.

Donna punched him on one arm. “Open your eyes you idiot” she said affectionally.

The Doctor did so and grinned at her – before his eyes widened. “Oh Blimy!”

“What? You said you were taking me to dinner, so I thought I’d wear something nice for a change,” Donna said smoothing down the front of her black and white polka dot dress. It clung to her curves in all the right places. She started to grin at him.

“Yes, right, so I did,” the Doctor agreed, then stopped. “Did we set a where?” he finished cautiously seeing Donna’s face didn’t seem to change or seem that excited. Feverishly he wracked his brains to try to remember.

“Yes, Dragus 9,” Donna offered, continuing to look at a spot past the Doctor’s shoulder, her expression still frozen in the half grin.

The Time Lord frowned. Donna should be sounding so much more excited. Dragus 9 was a particularly difficult place to reach, and then you needed an invitation to enter their planetary orbit, before you even thought of asking for permission to book a table. Reservations took years and it had taken the Doctor calling in several favours to reserve them a dinner. “You don’t want to go?”

“No, yes of course, I want that but…”

Footsteps on the grating behind him caused the Doctor to stop mid-sentence.

Footsteps coming up the stairs towards the main console area.

Impossible; the Tardis was currently floating in space just outside the realms of the third quadrant.

The Doctor turned, automatically putting himself in between Donna and the intruder.

“Er excuse me, nice place you have here, not sure what kind of place exactly, but nice nonetheless. You wouldn’t happen to have a drink would you? I’m quite thirsty see; I’ve been walking for hours.”


	2. Chapter 2

Picard finished listening to Data’s report. “Thank you Mr Data. Mr Worf, Commander Riker did not board the _Enterprise_ with the rest of the landing party. Hail him; see if you regain contact so we can beam him aboard.”

Sitting forward in his chair in the centre of the bridge Picard turned so he could catch the security Chief’s eye, nodding once, not wanting to voice out loud the seriousness of losing unexpected contact with a member of a landing party coupled with their a seeming inability to bring him back to the ship.

“Yes Sir.” Worf agreed, returning the curt nod, already busy with his console.

Satisfied for the moment, Picard sat back and looked sourly at the view of the planet below as offered by the main view screen. The blue green world of RK2579 seemed unremarkable. Although boasting an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere able to support carbon life, it had never been explored or settled by the Federation and was still classed as a Db3 planet, which meant it that any inhabitants were not yet likely to have developed space travel.

“Ensign, confirm that we are holding a geostationary orbit with the planet below.” Picard told the crewman seated at Conn.

Making a few minor adjustments, the Ensign nodded. “Our orbit remains unchanged Captain. We are holding at 38,000 km out from the planet’s surface sir.”

“Thank you Mr Hobbs. Lt Wright, have there been any significant changes in the anomaly that first attracted our attention?” Picard asked the officer staffing Opps in Data’s absence.

“No Captain. It’s remaining steady at 9 million parsecs.”

Picard drew a breath, nothing appeared to be wrong, but intuition was making him feel less than happy with the answers. He was unable to put his finger on it, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. With a sigh, he turned to Troi, knowing that the ships Councillor would have sensed his unease anyway.

“Deanna?” Picard asked softly, she was sitting next to him on his left hand side as usual. Her insight and empathic abilities were always a valuable asset in any unexpected situation.

Picard’s unease mirrored her own. Seated beside the Captain, the Betazoid shook her head. “I have nothing to offer you Captain. Like you, I feel… ill at ease… However I don’t have any direct sense that Commander Riker has been harmed, but I am able to sense anything from the planet at all. Not much use I know, but that’s all I have, at this moment in time,” she said softly.

“As you say Councillor, not much help, but thank you for trying.”

A tense silence reigned on the bridge for several minutes, before the Chief of Security chose to break it. “Captain I am unable to reach Commander Riker,” Worf announced formally after trying to reach the First Officer for several minutes. “Nor can I pinpoint either his whereabouts or that of his combadge. The combadge appears to have stopped transmitting. That being the case, I took the liberty to run a sensor sweep of the immediate area to no avail. I specifically searched for trace elements of the composite alloys the device, such as one would expect to find if it had been destroyed. There were none.

“However there are several heat signatures of bipedal humanoids in the area. My initial long range scan show that they share common DNA traits that are a 98.2% match to Earth Humans, although their body temperature is somewhat cooler than normal and they appear to be much less technically advanced.”

“Thank you Lt Commander,” Picard said with a nod. “You’re sure certain there is no sign of the Commander or his combadge?”

“Yes Captain I am quite certain. I ran the scan three times just to make sure. Given my findings there is no indications that Commander Riker is on the planet.”

“So the Commander is gone, but we are now picking up signs of humanoids?” Picard said turning back to Opps. “Correct me if I am wrong, Mr Wright but there was no life signs in the area when the life capsule crashed?”

The Lieutenant quickly scrolled through the information available to him from his station, since he hadn’t been the officer on duty at the time. “You are correct Captain; there are no records of any life signs.”

“Yet they are there now,” Worf added. “And the life pod did crash into one of their buildings. Despite the fact that initial scans indicated the building was empty at the time, the inhabitants could have perceived it’s destruction as a hostile act and have taken Commander Riker hostage as a result?”

“Yes indeed. Thank you Mr Worf.” Picard looked thoughtfully staring at the main view screen for several moments acknowledging the likelihood, turning over events in his mind, before he stood and pulled down his tunic. “Something doesn’t feel right here, the natives, and anomaly notwithstanding. The Away Team made no mention of seeing anyone other the occupant of the life pod.”

“Sir, scans of the area are now showing two groups of natives. The largest concentration of six or seven individuals are gathered around the crash site, with a smaller group some 500 metres to the west of that position. Judging from their heat signatures, maybe two or three individuals.”

“Their leaders?” Picard hazarded, and then huffed to himself. “No, this is useless, speculation will get us nowhere.” Tapping his combadge, the Captain drew a breath. “Picard to Data, meet me in my Ready Room at your convenience. Lt Commander La Forge please join us too. Mr Worf you’re with me, Lt Capstone you have the conn.” Picard said walking briskly towards his office just off the main bridge, not waiting to hear acknowledgments or seeing his instructions carried out.

Gathering himself up a cup of tea, using the time it gave him to ponder still further, Jean-Luc Picard sat down behind his desk, Worf coming to attention beside him. Data and Geordi arrived a moment later.

“Gentlemen, for the moment Commander Riker’s whereabouts remain unknown,” the Captain said succinctly. “Mr Data how is the science division getting on in their examination of the anomaly?”

“I have not yet received a full update Captain, but I believe much of the information has changed little from when I left as part of the initial Landing Party. We have now determined that the anomaly is of unknown origin; formed of particles and matter not of a type we have encountered before. Its waveform and electrical resonance pattern are not behaving in a correct manner as describe by Newton’s Law 68th Edition. The magnetic quality of the boson particles are decidedly off vector and are also not of a pattern that we have thus far seen. Additionally the Delta, Blue, and Black light properties are microns off their expected core spectrums. I estimate that the science team will have a preliminary report ready for you in two point 76 hours.”

“Under the present circumstances Mr Data, you need to make it sooner,” Picard said firmly. “I need their preliminary report on my desk within the hour.”

Data opened his mouth to suggest that the task was impossible, but the look Picard gave him changed his mind. He nodded briefly. “As you wish Captain,” he agreed.

With a nod, Picard turned to Geordi. “Mr La Forge, I realise that, like Commander Data you have only just returned to the ship, but I presume you have already begun to run a diagnostic on Transporter Room One?”

“Yes Captain. As you are aware, a full level one diagnostic will take an Engineering team several hours to complete, and take Transporter Room One effectively off line, while it’s completely stripped down and put back together again. We were fortunate that Lt Marksham was on duty when we returned, as she was quick to understand what had happened and was just completing a standard system check when I left the transporter room. There was nothing to indicate a serious malfunction.”

“I see. You didn’t feel or experience anything different when you beamed back up? Either of you?”

“No Captain.”

“No Sir.”

“There was no sense of displacement, of something being a little off or not quite right?”

“Not at all Captain,” Data responded firmly.

Picard breathed out heavily, weighing his words with care. “Good, because I need to be absolutely certain that any rescue team I send down won’t end up in the same situation as Commander Riker. Mr Worf has completed a sensor sweep of the entire area and has reported that no trace of the Commander is to be found. I don’t want to take the chance of the same thing happening to a second landing party. If we send down a further team, I want a transport lock on them at all times.”

“May I suggest that we take Transporter Room One off line and use Transporter Room Three until Engineering is able to complete a Level One diagnostic?” Data suggested.

“I concur,” Wolf agreed. “A sensible precaution.”

“It would certainly make sense,” Geordi said nodding.

“Indeed, make it so Mr La Forge.”

“I also picked up several heat signatures in and around the area. Sensors indicate the presence of several beings native to the planet. They are split into two groups, the larger of the two around the crash site of the life pod, the smaller approximately 500 metres away.” Worf continued.

“Did you see anyone when you were down there?” Picard asked Geordi and Data.

“No Captain,” Geordi said immediately.

“The building which the life pod crashed into was obviously not in use.” Data said, recalling the incidence with near perfect clarity. “Prior to impact, I do not believe it had been used for quite a while.”

“But there had obviously been a group of people living there at some point, for it to have been built in the first place. We didn’t get much of a chance to look around Captain, but there were several other structures in the area.” Geordi stated.

Cocking his head to one side Data nodded. “You are correct Geordi,” he agreed. “However my visual record of all the buildings in the area showed them to be in various states of decay. I do not believe there has been anyone dwelling in them at the moment.”

Picard looked thoughtful. “But the fact remains there was a civilisation living there at some point. At present we need to determine the whereabouts and secure the safety of Commander Riker; however we may need to find a way to communicate with these beings, if they have anything to do with the Commanders disappearance.”

“Sir, I request that you allow me to lead an Away Team to the surface in order to locate Commander Riker's whereabouts,” Worf said firmly.

Picard nodded. “Yes Mr Worf, I intend to ask you to do just that. You and a security detail. I just want to be as sure as possible, that you don’t encounter any other surprises along the way.”

“Yes sir, thank you,” Worf replied, already itching to be on his way.

“Lt Commander do not forget that RK2579 now comes under the jurisprudence of the Prime Directive now we have identified the very real possibility of existing native inhabitants.” Data added. “You and your team must make every effort not to be seen or interact with the natives until it has been unequivocally established that they are Commander Riker.”

“Commander Data is correct,” Picard agreed. “We cannot risk any further contamination of their belief system at this stage. Or further disturbance of their way of life.”

“I will be careful,” Worf agreed.

“One last thing,” Picard suggested leaning forward slightly to open a Comm channel to Sickbay. “Dr Crusher, may I have a moment of your time please?”

Dr Crushers face appeared on screen a moment later. “Yes Captain, how can I help you?” she said indicating an instrument selection to someone off screen. “Yes, that one, the size 02.”

“Your patient doctor?”

“Yes Captain that is who I am working on at the moment. I’m doing my best to stabiles him and fully assess his injuries. Speaking of which, I really need to get back to him, I’ll let you know when I have anything further to report.”

“I need that report now doctor,”

“I don’t have much more to give you than that, I’m afraid.”

“Commander Riker is missing doctor,” Picard said firmly.

Beverly blinked. “Missing?” she enquired.

“Yes, he failed to transport aboard with the remainder of the Away Team.”

“Transporter malfunction?”

“That we are still trying to determine, it seems unlikely though.”

“Then how can I help?”

“Has our guest regained consciousness at all?”

“No Captain and he’s not likely to for some time.” Beverly said looking down at the data padd in her hands. “Ok, as far as a preliminary report goes. My initial scans show massive internal bruising and blood pooling in his thoracic cavity, decreasing his ability to breathe amongst other things. Bruising and lacerations to the left side of his temple and occipital bone at the back of his head indicates that he will likely suffer some degree of concussion, which may or may not indicate memory loss. I already know that four of his ribs have broken bilaterally across his chest in a diagonal pattern, the likely hood that the straps on an internal harness failed. Additionally there are compound fractures to his right femur, left pelvis, left Glenohumeral joint, that’s the ball and socket articulation between the head of the humerus and the glenoid cavity of the scapula as well as complete breaks to his left ulna, and radius. He should make a full recovery, but it will take a day or so before he’ll be able to give you any useful information.”

“Understood Doctor, however he may or may not hold the key to finding Will, so please do your best to stabilise him, I’ll be down shortly.”

“You will be going against medical advice, even if it is possible for me to bring him round.”

“Noted Doctor, Picard out.” The Captain said terminating the call. He looked round at his assembled Officers, “Gentlemen, you have your orders,” he said dismissing him. “Mr Data, a moment if you please.”

“Of course Captain.”

\+ Truly a most fascinating place + Orac hummed to itself, still in the purpose-built metal carrying case Avon had constructed many months ago in order to make the super computer more portable. The case had yet to be opened, however Avon had slid Orac’s activation key into its connection port shortly before blacking out in the escape pod, leaving Orac with rare control over his own abilities. Having ridden down to the surface of the planet in with Avon, and been taken up to the _Enterprise_ by Data, a helpful tech had then taken Orac’s case down to Main Engineering soon after, on the mistaken assumption that the box contained some of the Chief Engineers personal tools.

Orac hadn’t minded in the slightest. The dematerialism effect of the _Enterprise’s_ transporters was a new experience for the self-aware supercomputer; the forces at play completely different from the technology found on the _Liberator_. If a computer could be described as happy, Orac felt in its element. It was inside a truly alien machine. Fascinating! First on the list was to learn to communicate properly. Orac had reached out eagerly to study everything it could about its new surroundings, only to learn that he could not connect with the _Enterprise D_ as easily as it normally could with other computers, as there was not a Tarriel cell in sight. 

Orac had only just begun to scratch the surface of understanding how the _Enterprise_ had been constructed and powered when it found itself interrupted by Zen. 

\+ Information. Repairs to _Liberators _systems continue apace. We are not yet fully functional, however a nitrogen/oxygen mix able to support life human life has been restored + Zen told Orac via a subspace channel. As per Orac’s instructions, Zen gave Orac hourly updates on the status of the ship.

\+ Very well. What is your estimated repair time? +

\+ Systems indicate another eight hours and 23 minutes before full power is restored. Energy banks three through to seven remain drained of power. Transporter function will be available in 2 hours and 57 minutes. Computers are responding to search, locate and recovery +

\+ You heard from the crew? +

\+ Affirmative. A voice transmission from Blake stated that he is safe and well on the planet Epheron. It is a planet of the system Lauritol with several primitive life forms. Jenna reports superficial injuries in a life capsule malfunction. She is aboard a neutral cargo carrier in transit to the planet Morphenniel and advises that her situation requires no priority treatment. There has been no communication from Vila, Cally or Avon +

\+ Avon has been found by the humans aboard this ship. He was badly injured, and is currently undergoing emergency treatment. We have not heard from Vila or Cally + Orac said, preparing to continue with the more pressing task of learning everything about the _Enterprise_. + Report again in one hour +

There was silence for several moments before Zen surprised Orac by interrupting his studies once more.

\+ Information +

\+ Yes? What is it now? +

\+ A space vehicle is registering on the detectors. Visual scans indicate that it is approaching the _Liberator._ Statistical analysis suggest it will attempt docking with the side port entrance +

\+ Can you identify the craft? +

\+ Negative +

\+ Is there any voice contact with the space vehicle? + Orac asked, its internal lights blinking faster as it processed the unforeseen data.

\+ Negative +

\+ Is it continuing to approach? +

\+ Confirmed. Full function has been restored to _Liberator_ weapon systems, the vehicle could be destroyed +

\+ You will do no such thing! It is most likely to be one of the crew returning. Do not bother me with such trivialities + Orac said dismissively. + I am in the midst of some fascinating discoveries +

“Information. The space vehicle is now outside safe strike range and continuing forward motion +

Orac’s diverted a small amount of its vast energies towards the problem Zen was announcing, even though it regarded the conversation as an irritant, taking it away from the fascinating exploration of _Enterprise._ \+ Yes, of course, why didn’t I think of this before? Zen let me see this ship for myself. + Orac demanded, linking with the _Liberators_ sensors so get a glimpse of the oncoming spacecraft. + 

The space vehicle about to dock with Liberator resembled an angular horseshoe in shape; it was bright red and battle damaged. Orac recognised the design as Callipson, a neutral planet, several million parsecs distinct. Using _Liberators_ systems Orac tried to initiate contact itself, but received no response.

\+ I am unable to communicate with the space vehicle either + Orac told Zen + Initiate a gamma level quarantine and lock inner hatch doors +

\+ Con... Zen ceased transmitting abruptly; all communication lost.

Orac sat and thought about the probabilities of Zen losing all power, blowing up, or more likely being boarded by unknown and potentially hostile entities. He set a small part of his cells aside to ponder the problem, and continued to probe the_ Enterprises’ _systems.

The Doctor stared hard at Vila. It was impossible for anyone to simply arrive unannounced in the Tardis. After the incidence with Donna and the excitable Huon particles inside her, he had tightened the shielding around the time machine enormously. “Wait, what? Walking for hours? That’s impossible. “What are you, some kind of hologram?”

“No … I’ve told you, my name is Vila, and I’ve been walking for hours”, Vila tried to explain. “I got lost, in the forest out there…”

“Right, yes of course,” the Doctor said calmly in a tone of utter disbelief, surreptitiously putting down the gadget he’d been fiddling with prior to Vila’s arrival, while turning his sonic screwdriver to scan for life signs and pointing it in his direction. “What are you, some kind of hologram?”

The sonic beeped. The Doctor frowned, shaking it a couple of times. “Really… Really?” he asked it, tapping it against one of his hands. Pushing his glasses up his nose, the Doctor squinted at the screwdriver. Reading the sonic was an art form at the best of times. Right at that moment, its readings refused to make sense. “Hmmm, it seems you’re corporeal enough.”

“I’m what?”

“Present. It seems you’re really here,” the Doctor said quite rudely. “So the question is; how did you get in? Some kind of matter transporter?”

“I walked.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “You can’t have done,” he said flatly. “You’re obviously here for some reason? Am I supposed to guess what that is? Who are you…?”

“I’m Vila, that’s all, just Vila.” Vila said rather bemused by the stranger’s reaction to him; his exhilaration at finding ‘civilisation’ drained away completely, leaving him feeling unexpectedly tired. Unnoticed by anyone apart from Donna, Vila wavered slightly on his feet.

Frowning the Doctor continued to wave his sonic about, before deciding to tap it firmly against the Tardis control panel several times with a loud metallic twang, causing both Donna and Vila to jump. “Ok, let’s try this now shall we. No really, this is rubbish… right well as you’re physically here, so the fact remains - what are you? Some kind of shape shifter then? Where is your home planet then?”

Vila looked at the Doctor in bemusement. All he’d wanted was a drink or two, a chance to sit down, rest a bit, and get his wrist sorted. Nothing the Doctor was saying to him made any kind of sense. “Eh? What’s that? It’s Earth, of course,” he said caught off guard and answering truthfully. Realising his error, he tried to deflect. “That is, I mean to say. I’ve been walking for a long time; really all I need is a drink, and maybe the chance to sort my wrist out a bit.”

Still looking at his readings on the screwdriver, the Doctor shook it a couple of times. “Well you’re not a shape shifter,” he agreed. “You could be a plasmavor I suppose, which… Earth you said… mmm, well you’re apparently human, well human enough anyway, with a few extra bits I don’t quite understand yet. What’s wrong with this thing?”

Looking quite alarmed Vila stepped backwards down a step, clutching hold of the handrail with his good hand as his worldview wobbled a bit. “What? I’m human, of course, I’m human. I don’t have any extra bits; well at least I don’t think I have. What extra bits are you talking about?”

“Doctor,” Donna said quietly, though her voice contained a hint of warning. She’d watched the stranger slowly seem to deflate in energy as he’d entered the Tardis, and now he looked rather unsteady on his feet.

The Doctor gave Donna a questioning glance. He had learned the hard way not to ignore that tone. Donna looked pointedly at Vila and mimed holding her arm, her left eyebrow raised in what was clearly a question.

Tired, Vila watched the byplay between the Doctor and Donna and took another step down. “Perhaps I’ve come at the wrong time, and should just leave?” he suggested.

“You need to be nice,” Donna warned; her voice low enough for only the Doctor to hear.

With a look of exasperation and fondness in equal measure, the Doctor turned back to regard Vila with keen interest, once more, and noticing that he’d moved away, quickly closed the gap between them. “No, no-no, why would you want to do that, you’ve just got here after all? Don’t you want to see everything now you’re here?”

“I don’t want to be here,” agreed Vila, deciding that the man in front of him was seriously unwell and as changeable as Avon could be, which probably made him just as dangerous too. “I’ve changed my mind and…”

“Then why not change it back again? I change my mind all the time, well most of it at any rate,” the Doctor said deliberately prattling as he took several more scans of Vila, waving his sonic around again, trying to track down the odd readings he was getting.

Vila found his eyes following the motion unwittingly. He began to look more anxious by the moment.

“Hmm, nothing remarkable, just a little odd; how did you say you got here again?”

“I walked. From the forest.” Vila tried patiently.

Still waving his sonic, the Doctor sucked in a breath. “Oooo…”

“Oooo?” repeated Vila. “What’s an Oooo?”

“Ha! I knew I’d get it. Your quantum signature is off…”

“Eh?”

“Oh, not by much, 0.04492% - but that’s a huge amount on the Lutan scale, not that anyone really uses the Lutan scale any more, except of course the Lutan’s, and well the Tegarns and their small conglomerate of miners, and the Zoorons, mustn’t forget them… and…”

“Doctor; stop it.” Donna said firmly.

The Doctor looked at his assistant and scowled.

Donna copied the motion.

Seeing the funny side of things, the Doctor grinned and turned back to Vila, who regarded the now smiling Time Lord with even more distrust.

“I’m sorry; I really don’t feel at all good. Perhaps I should just leave,” Vila, said carefully taking another step backwards, then clutching at the railings as he stumbled a bit.

Donna took a step towards Vila in sympathy. She knew she was rubbish at reading people, but there was something about him that she couldn’t just help feeling sorry for.

“Donna, stay where you are,” the Doctor warned, before turning on Vila again. “You can’t leave, not now. Just tell me how you really got here.” 

“I’ve already told you, hundreds of times. I. Walked. Here.” Vila said slowly as if talking to an idiot. “My life pod crashed. I got out, walked all day, until I found your village, and well here I am.”

“So you are,” the Doctor agreed. “And that’s why we have a problem, because it’s impossible and do you know why it’s impossible…?”

Motioning to Donna to keep back, as she’d crept forward despite his words, still not sure what kind of threat Vila possessed, if any at all, but determined to get to the bottom of the mystery he presented, the Doctor scooted quickly round their unexpected visitor and walked up to the Tardis doors which he flung open with a flourish. “Because of this! Would you like to try again, as you can see, we’re in space!”

Donna stared through the open door. “Er Doctor, I don’t think…”

“The alleyway, just like I was trying to explain to you,” Vila said, looking at the crates and odd bits of rubbish he’d seen moments ago. “I really should go, I won’t tell anyone anything, I promise…”

The Doctor looked from Donna to Vila and then through the doors of the Tardis. They did indeed appear to show a narrow alleyway. “What? But that’s impossible!” he stammered.

They were in space, drifting along just inside the time vortex, and had been for a few days, while they’d caught their breath after their adventures on Bendenium. The Doctor had spent his time tinkering on a few pet projects, while Donna had lazed away a few days reading and topping up on her sleep.

“It looks like an alley to me Doctor,” Donna said agreeing with Vila.

“But it can’t be.”

Tired, Vila sat down on the steps leading up to the main platform. “It’s an ally, of course it’s an alley, what else could it be?” he said despondently thinking the Doctor was quite, quite mad.

“A projection?” Donna hazarded.

The Doctor waved his sonic screwdriver at the doorway; it buzzed and whirred then fell silent. The Doctor looked at his instrument, then cautiously reached out to touch his hand to the doorway. When in space a forcefield allowed the Tardis doors to open without loss of atmosphere. The field should have glowed blue to the touch.

There was nothing to impede the Doctors hand as it passed the threshold of the doorway and was ‘outside’. Experimentally the Doctor wiggled his fingers about, then cautiously stuck his head outside, and drew in a lungful of air.

“Well?” Donna asked from her position, keeping an eye both on Vila and the Doctor. “Oh no… don’t you dare…” she said suddenly as she saw the Doctor attempt to put a foot outside. “What happens if the doors close, we’re really in space, and I’m left her with… with… with him?”

“I’m Vila you know,” Vila said to no one in particular.

The Doctor put his foot outside the Tardis, nothing happened. Grinning he prepared to step forward.

Donna growled. “Do not do it,” she warned.

“I’m holding on, see, holding on…” The Doctor made a show of holding onto the doorway as he stepped outside.

Nothing happened.

The Doctor looked round. “Well that was a bit…. A bit anticlimactic actually.”

Keeping an eye on the Doctor, feeling a little bit sorry for their guest, Donna moved to sit on the steps next to Vila. “I would ask how you are doing, but I can see you’ve hurt your arm,” she tried sympathetically.

“I think it’s broken,” Vila said miserably. “I could really do with a drink. My head hurts as well as my arm.”

“A drink, that’s maybe something I can help with.” Donna suggested. “What can I get you?”

“I don’t suppose you have any Soma? It would help with my arm see?” Vila tried hopefully.

Donna shook her head. “I don’t know what that is, I’m sorry. I could get you a tea maybe, or some water? Don’t worry about the Doctor… whatever is wrong; he’ll help… just talk to him.”

Will Riker stared at the screen in frustration. Despite several rounds of shocks, the natives didn’t seem that they were likely to give up any time soon. “Your plan doesn’t seem to be working,” he told Danya.

“Yes, they do seem to be unusually stubborn today don’t they,” the young woman responded also looking at the screen.

“Do you have any other bright ideas?”

“Yes, actually, I do.” Danya smiled.

“Good, then I’d like to hear it.”

“We wait,” Danya said simply. “And have a proper meal, not just a piece of fruit. Whatever happens, they won’t stay out after dark.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“They’re a superstitious lot; they think nasty things walk the earth at night.”

“What kind of nasty things?”

Danya shrugged. “Do you know, I’ve never found out? Isn’t that strange?”

“So for all you know, it could be true?”

“Oh come on. Surely someone like you can’t believe in monsters under the bed?”

Riker chucked humorlessly. “Believe me, I’ve met plenty of monsters, and most had nothing to do with bed sheets.”

“Oh do tell, I love a good story.” Danya said opening several cupboards and pulling out a varied assortment of ingredients.”

“Some other time maybe, not now. We really can’t afford to stay here much longer.”

“I can, I often spend several nights up here. Will your friends come looking for you?”

“They will,” Will Riker, agreed attempting to activate his combadge once more, scowling when nothing appeared to happen, the communication device not even acknowledging an open channel.

“Then you have nothing to worry about. In a couple of hours the Sorrens will have got bored, we can leave and look for your friends. I see the cut on your head has stopped bleeding now, come and help me prepare a meal.”

“Now, remember the Prime Directive remains in force on this planet. We do not show ourselves or allow ourselves to be seen by the indigenous people. This is a recon mission only. Our objectives are to locate Commander Riker. If an opportunity arises where we can extract him unseen, then we will do so. Otherwise we will report back to the ship in one hour and discuss his rescue further.” Worf said firmly. 

It had taken engineering nearly half an hour to finish a standard diagnostic on Transporter Room 3 – just to be on the safe side, as Geordi had said. In the meantime, Worf had chosen his security team carefully. They were all seasoned security team members, that were unlikely to be trigger happy, or misinterpret any difficult situations.

Data had come to see Worf off; handing the Chief of Security a tricorder he’d programmed with the exact coordinates of Riker’s last recorded whereabouts.

“Do not take any chances,” he told the Klingon. “The initial findings of the anomaly are intriguing but inherently unstable. Now would not be a good time to take unnecessary risks, Commander Riker’s whereabouts, and safety notwithstanding.”

“Understood.”

Data turned to the transporter operator as Worf and his team climbed onto the transporter platform. “Ensign keep a lock on the Away Team at all times. Be ready to beam them back at a moment’s notice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then energise.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crews get even more muddled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not being able to post this chapter sooner.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard strode into sickbay with Deanna Troi close by his side, though she hardly needed her empathic skills to read the Captain’s emotional state. First Will had gone missing; and now Lt Commander Worf had vanished too, along with the rest of his security team, and in the last half an hour odd glitches seemed to be manifesting in the ships computers and electrical systems.

Moreover, there was possibly only one person who could explain it all; the man they had rescued from the life pod.

Through the clear plexiglass walls of an enclosed area of Sickbay, Picard and Troi could see Dr Crusher operating on an individual laying on a sterile field table. The Captain and Councillor stood quietly, if somewhat impatiently on the Captain’s part, until the doctor indicated with a nod of her head to one of her assistants that she had finished, and the sterile blue field surrounding her patient faded away.

Beverly Crusher pulled off her surgical gown and turned to see Picard and Troi waiting for her. Placing the soiled garment into a bin as she passed, she walked towards them. “What can I do for you Captain?”

“How is your patient doing Doctor?” Picard said with a nod towards the person being tended to on the biobed.

“Ensign Wang will be up and about again in a few days. It was touch and go for a bit, but her ankle will be as good as new with no lasting damage; it was a nasty fall in Engineering, a hatchway wasn’t properly secured I believe?”

Picard frowned. “You were not operating on our guest?”

Crusher gave Picard a look. “I’ll be sure to pass on your best wishes for a speedy recovery to Leonora,” she said dryly.

“What? Oh yes, yes of course,” Picard agreed, momentarily wrong footed. “I am always interested in the health of my crew. However I came here to discuss a different patient with you doctor as you are fully aware.”

“I told you I would call the minute his condition changed; it hasn’t. He remains resting comfortably; his vital signs are within tolerances for the type of injuries he sustained, and he has yet to regain consciousness.”

“Prognosis?”

“Long term, pretty good, broken bones are straightforward to fix for the most part, and as long as the damage is not too extensive, internal injuries can be healed. It is his head injury, which is the greatest course for concern. With any blunt force trauma there is always a degree of uncertainty you understand. A certain amount of memory loss is to be expected.” Crusher said carefully.

Picard drew a breath. “So what are you trying to say doctor? You are not expecting a full recovery?”

“I’m saying it’s too soon to tell. However, this is where it gets interesting. I ran a full biological workup of our guest, as you would expect,” Crusher continued and paused carefully.

“Agreed and?” Picard asked expectantly.

“Our sensors say he’s not 100% Human,” Crusher said her face alight with discovery.

Captain Picard levelled his Chief Medical Officer with a look. At the last count there were at least 300 differing sentient species that the Federation either encompassed or had encountered. A being who looked wholly human, but wasn’t was not news. “And?”

“He’s not, _not_ fully human either.” Beverly finished.

“Doctor, you’re talking in riddles.”

“I know. Intriguing isn’t it? His DNA identifies as human, but human not from this time, or perhaps more properly Universe.”

“The Anomaly? He came through it?” Picard hazarded.

“Well, I don’t know for certain. But it’s certainly possible.” Beverly conceded. “However it is pure hypothesis at this point.”

“Speak with Data; his science team has yet to finish their analysis of the anomaly, but this may aid them in understanding its properties. Has he regained consciousness yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Inform me as soon as he does.”

Lt Commander Worf materialised and drew a breath preparing to order his security team to fan out among the buildings, and see if their tricorders could find any sign of Commander Riker. Only he was not in the middle of the clearing they’d identified as closest, to where the shuttle had landed, where they could see and not be seen; but inside some kind of building. No, that was not right; the subtle yet distinctive vibrations that he could feel in the soles of his feet told Worf that they were not inside a building but aboard a space faring vessel of some sort.

Instinctively Worf drew his phaser even as he tapped his combadge. “Worf to _Enterprise,_” he said in a low voice, motioning for his men to stay still and keep quiet, even as they also drew their weapons. “Worf to _Enterprise_,” he tried again. “_Enterprise_, are you receiving me?”

Worf’s combadge made an off-tone dull buzz.

“It seems we’ve lost contact with the ship sir,” one of the Lieutenants suggested looking around them. 

“Yes, that would appear to be the case,” Worf agreed and tried his combadge again. “_Enterprise_, if you can hear me, we are not on the planet’s surface but some kind of unknown alien vessel. We have not encountered anyone but will commence a ship wide search for lifeforms.”

As before, there was no reply from the communication device.

Worf look about him. He and his three-man team were standing in some kind of alcove. To the left and right of them were rows of square silver nodules, stacked against and on top of each other, almost floor to ceiling height, resembling an arrangement of mini deflector arrays, while behind them there was what looked like some kind of venting system. The floor was matt black in colour, and bordered by a glowing white line of light along the front that was obviously an active power source. Overhead there were three large rectangular light panels.

“This looks like some form of teleportation area,” Lieutenant Towson suggested.

Very much on the alert Worf nodded. Looking down at his feet, he deliberately took a step forward across the electrical barrier. “Indeed. I suggest we step clear,” Worf told his men.

The three security guards moved forward as Worf had instructed, instinctively fanning out to cover the entrance/exits as they moved into the centre of the room, phasers at the ready.

The teleport room was approximately six square metres, more or less in a hexagonal pattern. The walls were dark grey with several inset geometrical shaped panels of various colours. Two hexagonal entrances/exits took up position on opposite sides of the room; one up a short series of three steps. Directly in front of the Away Team there was a low console of some sort filled with switches, lights and leavers, and behind that, some cream coloured built in benches. A row of bracelets stood to the right on a rack. Hexagonal shaped light panels decorated the walls, while rectangular light panels were features of the walls leading off through the exits, and situated behind the console.

“I don’t recognise the design of the ship,” Lieutenant D’Son offered drawing close to the console in front of them, noting the sliders and rocker switches and illuminated graphic rangefinder. The rangefinder was showing several blinking dots arranged against an unfamiliar grid pattern. No distances or references defined or given. “Sir… I’m not sure what this means?” he said calling Worf over.

Stepping forward Worf looked at the panel. As Chief of Security on the _Enterprise,_ he was familiar with the working of many of the ships systems. The design of the console was unclear however. “They are not using any recognised measurement system. These could be representative of anything, positions of the ships crew, or other vehicles in the area.” Worf agreed.

Together they watched as a couple of the dots moved position, the lights showing their position blinking evenly.

“Sir, they are definitely tracking something. Could one of these dots be the _Enterprise?_”

“Since we are unable to reach our ship, and until we find anyone aboard or a communications relay we have no way of knowing.” Worf, said with evident frustration. “We will split up into two pairs and search this ship. We do not know how long our presence will go undetected, phasers on stun. There is no way of knowing what kind of adversary we face. Lieutenant Portman, you and Lieutenant D’Son go to the aft of the ship, see if you can find engineering, or better still their weapons room. Towson and I will try and locate the bridge or the communication station.”

“Yes sir,” Portman and D’Son said with a couple of nods. Studying their tricorders intently, they moved off down the right hand corridor, as Worf and Towson mounted the steps leading away from the teleport area, using their equipment in much the same fashion.

“And I tell you I saw something on that screen, just for a moment,” Section Leader Klegg said belligerently staring at the main view screen on the _Liberator_. “A big ugly thing it was, more of them filthy alien scum I wager.”

Captain Del Tarrant looked at Zen’s blank viewscreen. “Well it’s not there now,” he said firmly.

“And I’m telling you it was!”

Tarrant raised an eyebrow.

“And I’m telling you it was, _sir!_” Klegg intoned pointedly.

“Did I say I disbelieved you?” Tarrant stated, moving to Vila’s station and haphazardly playing with a few switches. “This ship was badly damaged in the battle, no doubt the reason her crew abandoned her; she’s still barely functioning now.”

“All the same, sir.”

“All right, let’s have it, what would you have me do about it? We’re not in control, we’ve no weapons to fire – if you want to leave, be my guest, feel free,” Tarrant grinned. “I won’t stop you.”

“And leave you to claim the prize money for capturing the _Liberator_, not likely, sir.”

Tarrant smiled again, though his eyes were quite cold. “As you wish, Section Leader.”

A burst of static abruptly hissed through the ship’s speakers.

Tarrant and Worf both held up their hands to stop their subordinates from talking over the top of it.

“Zen this is Cally… injured… burns to my… face. My homing…. Coordinates….pick up…” the disembodied voice of a woman broke through the static in patches. The message didn’t repeat and fell silent.

Zen obediently changed course towards her.

“Another survivor?” Towson asked Worf; they’d stopped to list just after they exited a room full of a huge variety of clothing, hinting at a very large crew, to listen to the message.

“A likely scenario,” the Klingon agreed. “However, I believe this ship has just changed course to intercept.”

“One of this ship’s crew then?”

“We have no way of knowing, until, or unless they arrive… but it does seem likely.”

“What oh!” Klegg turned to Tarrant in glee, momentarily forgetting he was with a superior officer. “Now we’ve got them. That’s one of the crew all right. Rebel scum, but worth it for the price on their heads. If they board, it’s going to be via the teleport, we should get back there immediately.”

“For once I agree with you Section Leader. Station two of your men here on the bridge, just in case, and we will go and enact a little surprise for our soon to be guest.”

Portman and D’Son exchanged a glance as Cally’s voice came over the loud speakers. They had been walking down a very long corridor, with many doors opening into various storerooms and obvious sleeping quarters, but had only found signs of occupation in five of them, and had been speculating ever since.

“And I’m telling you she’s on her way to a repair yard; that would necessitate only a skeleton crew aboard. Look how long it took to open that last door,” Portman said firmly.

“She looks as if she’s been in a battle of some-sort, so you may be right,” D’Son agreed. “Do you think if that woman was crew she’d come in from the transporter or a shuttle bay?”

“We haven’t found a shuttle bay, or the engine room, or weapons locker,” Portman pointed out. “So my guess is that transporter room.” 

“Should we head back to the transporter room, just in case?” D’Son suggested. “All we’ve managed to find so far is the galley, a couple of rec rooms, their sickbay and cabins.” 

“Better not, Lt Commander Worf gave us our orders, I’m sure he can handle a single female.”

Worf and Towson reached the transporter room first. Nothing had changed appreciably since their arrival. Worf set Towson to cover one of the exits while he kept an eye on the other and moved to look at the rangefinder on the console. Worf counted six blinking lights, but they remained mostly in the same pattern as before. “No change here,” he reported.

“Wait, did you hear something,” Klegg said turning to Tarrant and his man Harmon.

“You’re getting a little jumpy aren’t you Section Leader? I thought you said your men had made a thorough sweep of this ship?”

“So they did _sir_,” Klegg replied undaunted, gesturing with his pistol that the enlisted man should go first.

With a silent nod, Harmon moved off.

Harmon came across Worf first. The Klingon was still attempting to decipher the transporter controls and had his back half toward the doorway. Harmon aimed his gun, and was promptly shot by Towson; his phaser set on stun. Harmon crumpled completely hitting his head against one of the sharp angles of the wall, falling with an audible thud.

“I heard that,” Tarrant said raising his own weapon and moving away from the centre of the corridor to creep quietly closer against the walls. “I thought you said your men had searched the ship Section Leader?” he whispered fiercely

“They had.”

“Then perhaps they should do it again; and properly next time!”

“I think he’s dead,” Towson told Worf, bending down to check on the status of the prisoner. There was an enormous dent in the back of his head, which was matted with a good degree of blood.

“Unfortunate,” Worf rumbled, looking at the body. “Some kind of military personnel; I am not familiar with the insignia. Help me move him out of sight; it’s doubtful he’s alone. There was an empty room just a few metres back; we’ll put him in there.” Worf said, careful to pick you the gun the other man had been carrying to remove any traces of his presence.

Tarrant and Klegg entered the transporter room moments after Worf and Towson had left dragging Harmon.

“There’s no one here Section Leader,” Captain Tarrant said loudly to Klegg, who was about to respond with an audible grumble when Tarrant put a finger to his lips; his eagle eye had spotted a slight bloodstain on the edge where Harmon had hit his head.

Klegg nodded. “Yes, the room looks empty,” he said aloud.

“I suspect they’ll return Section Leader, I suggest we hide,” Tarrant whispered softly.

“They killed one of my men; I’ll do the same to them,” Klegg responded firmly, planting his feet next to the teleport console.

“Suit yourself,” Tarrant said, moving to duck out of sight just back from the doorway.

Lt Commander Worf and Lieutenant Towson moved quietly back towards the transporter room. The guard who had hit his head, wasn’t dead, but was out cold, so he had been restrained, and the room locked behind them by dint of phasering the lock closed. Towson quietly raising his phasor as he caught sight of Section Leader Klegg standing next to the console, he had a clean shot, so he took it. Klegg dropped bonelessly to the floor unconscious. Towson took a step forward.

“Easy, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tarrant suggested moving away from the doorway and covering the Lieutenant with his weapon. “Who are you and what are you doing aboard my ship?”

Towson raised his hands slowly. “Your ship?” he queried, looking at the young curly haired man in an all black jump suited uniform.

“Yes, my ship. So what are you doing aboard her? You don’t look like an alien.”

“And just what does an ‘alien’ look like?” Worf suggested coming up quietly behind Tarrant. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Tarrant turned, holding out his weapon, his eyes widening at the sight of the Klingon. 

Worf offered him a feral smile.

Del Tarrant recovered quickly. “Summery execution is the usual punishment for boarding a Federation ship without authority. Just who are you people?”

Both Worf and Towson exchanged a brief glance. Worf stared at Tarrant; something was obviously very wrong. “I am Lieutenant Commander Worf of the _USS Enterprise, _of the United Federation of Planets.”

Tarrant looked steadily at Worf, seemingly ignoring the fact that he was being held by gunpoint. “The united federation of planets; I’ve never heard of it,” he said dismissively. “What is it, some gathering of a couple of backwards planets no one has every heard of?”

“There are over 150 member worlds spanning eight thousand light years,” Worf said firmly. “The United Federation of Planets was founded in 2161 by the United Earth, Vulcan, Andorian Empire, Tellar systems. We peacefully co-exist in the Alpha and Beta Quadrant and Orion Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy. Our Capital is San Francisco, on Earth.”

Tarrant smiled thinly. “Now I know you’re making it all up. I trained as a Federation Space Captain, on Earth, and I can assure you I’ve never seen the type of uniforms you’re wearing nor have I ever heard of any place called San Fran whatever… So I repeat who are you really? Are you part of the resistance, and please will you stop pointing that gun of yours at me.”

“It’s called a phaser, and it’s you that is mistaken. I was at Star Fleet Headquarters just last month, to receive a commendation award.” Worf contradicted.

“My congratulations. But I repeat. I’ve never heard of you. And I come from Earth.”

Worf looked at Tarrant. “Obviously we both can’t be right,” he said drawing a breath.

“Now that’s the first thing you’ve said I can agree with. So where do we go from here?”

Worf looked at his prisoner, just as Klegg started to groan. “We will secure you and your friend somewhere safe,” he said firmly.

“Secure Section Leader Klegg if you must, but he’s no friend of mine.”

“You are his superior officer.” Worf said firmly.

“I wear the uniform of a superior officer,” Tarrant corrected.

“So they are not under your command?” Towson asked, moving to crouch down beside Klegg and fasten his wrists behind his back with a set of Starfleet issue restraints.

“Hardly… I was a,” Tarrant hesitated only briefly, “…a freedom fighter, and pitched in to help the battle against the… aliens… I barely survived the first round, and was picked up by a Federation ship… appropriated this uniform… and ended up here after the ship I was on was also attacked.”

“So you are a deserter and a liar?” Worf suggested.

Seething inside by the blunt dismissal of his explanation, Tarrant did his best not to let it show. “That’s a little harsh; I’ve already said I was a Freedom fighter.”

“Freedom from what?” Towson asked curiously.

Tarrant looked a trifle sheepish. “The Federation. Look where I’m from, the Federation are a bunch of egotistical, brutal despots and maniacs.”

“Yet you trained to become a Captain?” Worf questioned.

“I was a lot younger then.”

“How many of them are on board?” Towson asked, apparently taking Tarrant’s statement at face value.

Tarrant took a couple of steps backwards and put down his hands. Moving towards the downed guard, he began to pat him down expertly. “They are called Troopers. This one’s name is Mally. The weapon you confiscated is a paragun; it fires plasma. Besides Section Leader Klegg and myself, there are four others. Is the one you encountered earlier dead as the blood on the doorway suggests?” Tarrant said producing a Federation radio from the troopers pocket and handing it over to Worf with a grin.

Wolf took the offered radio sceptically. “No, he is stunned only.”

“Mores the pity. How many are there of you?”

Kerr Avon opened his eyes, and then rather wished he hadn’t as the light around him was altogether too bright.

“Lower lights, one third,” an unfamiliar voice said unseen.

The lights dimmed immediately to a more bearable level, and a shape to go with the voice came into view.

“Hello, my name is Beverley, you were in an escape pod, but it’s all right, you’re safe now. You had some fairly serious injuries, which will take you a little while to recover from. Do you have a name?”

The voice speaking to him sounded firm and deceptively kind. Avon still had a ringing in his ears from the force of entry; a headache straight from the mouth of hell and his vision was completely blurred. Avon stared up at Beverly Crusher and blinked several times in an effort to clear his vision while he tried to make sense of her garbled words.

Avon tried to make sense of it; knowing that he needed to ascertain his whereabouts as soon as possible, but he felt his mind slipping away into darkness and saw no real reason to fight against it.

“I’ve not heard anything in sometime and the view screen is clear. I think it would be safe to leave this place now,” Will Riker told his hostess, and made a point of standing and not grabbing for the nearest piece of furniture as the room spun lazily for a few moments before finally settling and coming to a standstill.

Dayna watched him with a touch of concern. “We could always stay here for tonight,” she suggested. “We’ve plenty of room and food and water enough to last.”

Riker smiled; the young woman had been surprisingly good company, informing the Commander that though she lived mostly in isolation that it hadn’t meant she didn’t have her studies and had been well versed in the classics as well as science and computer technology. 

“Thank you, but I really do need to contact my ship and get back to her. I will be neglecting my duties if I stay away much longer,” Riker said carefully.

Dayna nodded, that she could readily understand and accept. “Very well,” she agreed. “Once we’re clear of our hidey hole, your… combadge… should work, that is, if it was just the EM field that was blocking reception.”

Riker nodded back in agreement. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” Dayna smiled, “Come, let us reunite you with your friends.”

The many steps up to the airlock, took only minutes, but seemed twice as long to Riker whose headache was returning with a vengeance, leaving a queasy feeling in his stomach. He felt decidedly ropey by the time Dayna had the hatch open, and it was all he could do not to push past her and gulp down lungful’s of fresh, faintly salty smelling sea air.

Dayna poked her head out of the hatchway first, closely followed by a knife and arrow, one in each hand. “It’s all clear,” she called down over her shoulder a moment later. “I can’t see anyone.”

Moving with caution Commander Riker exited Dayna’s hidey-hole and looked around him. The courtyard looked and felt completely deserted.

“They’ve probably lost interest and gone home,” Dayna said answering his unspoken question.

Although there was no sign of the natives, Riker was reluctant to take any chances and moved to stand in the deepening shadows against a wall. Moving slowly he brought his right hand up to tap his combadge. “Riker to _Enterprise_, come in _Enterprise_.”

Nothing happened other than the dull buzzy sound of a failed connection.

Undeterred Riker tried again. “This is William T Riker to _USS Enterprise_, are you receiving me? In case you are, I’ currently located approximately…” Riker struggled with his headache to do the math, “… sixty, sixty-five meters south west of the shuttle craft. I’m in a small courtyard, of a building with a yellow front.”

Dayna stirred beside him. “We daren’t stay here for long, it’ll be dark soon, and some of the indigenous wildlife can be a… challenge.”

“I thought you said earlier that the ‘things’ were not real?”

“Oh the things the natives believe are not, but the wildlife is.”

“Great. How long will it be safe to stay here?”

“How long will it take your people to find you?”

“If my combadge were working, no time at all. Without it… I’m surprised they haven’t sent a landing party down by now… maybe we should return to the crash site and see if anyone has?”

Dayna looked doubtfully at Riker. “We can go and look, but best be prepared,” she said offering him her knife.

Moving carefully, taking their time to check each open doorway and window, being careful not to tread on loose twigs or rubble, Dayna and Riker made their way back to the site of the crash landing. They could hear the noise of the Sorrens talking and laughing loudly long before they saw them however.

Carefully peering through a broken window in the building opposite the warehouse, Riker and Dayna were able to make out a large campfire, broken bits of building and large stones used to frame the fire above which some kind of animal was being slowly roasted. Raucous laughter was met with equally boisterous hand gestures, singing, and a lot of drinking either from mugs of some sort or animal skin bags.

“It looks like they’ve made camp for the night?” Riker said softly. “Is there a way round, out of here?”

“What about your people?”

“We have… kind of a code of non interference; they won’t come near this place, as long as they are here. If my combadge is still transmitting, they’ll find me anyway.”

“And if not?”

“I’ll come back in the morning and try and make contact some how.”

“Or maybe we could use the subspace transmitter we have at home,” Dayna suggested softly.

Riker stared at the young woman open mouthed. “You’ve had access to a transmitter all this time and didn’t say anything?” he said furiously, his voice raising.

“Shush, keep your voice down, or they’ll hear us. I thought it might be fun, that’s all. No harm was meant by it.”

“You knew my people would be looking for me.”

“Yes, but they couldn’t have gotten that close to you while the natives were out side, you’ve just said so yourself. See, no harm done. We’ll just call up those friends of yours and get you home in no time now.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Riker said grimly.

“I didn’t think my company was that bad?” Dayna said huffily moving away from the window and walking quickly towards the back of the building.

Riker watched her warily, keeping an eye both on her, and the Sorrens.

Dayna reached the back door. “Well, are you coming or not?” she challenged.

Riker and Dayna quickly left the built up area of the fallen society behind them and soon found themselves walking in long grass, which eventually started to give way to sand dunes between pockets of green. It wasn’t until they crested the top of a modest cliff that the daylight started to show signs of giving way to night, with a spectacular pink, purple, orange, and green sun’s set streaking across the ocean before them.

“How much further now? I can’t see any kind of structure,” Riker said hands on hips, trying not to show just how giddy he was felling. Looking down from a height didn’t help much either.

“We’re almost there.” Dayna said with bad grace.

“Where?”

“The sea, we live in it.”

“In it?”

“Yes, don’t worry; you won’t even get your feet wet. Careful now, the rocks down here are prone to shifting.”

Dayna was amazingly sure footed and skipped quickly from one rock to the other making her way down the cliff side; Riker followed a good deal slower, testing each footfall as loose stones and shingle continued to scatter in his wake. It wasn’t until he saw a second flash of white that he stopped.

“Dayna, over hear,” the Commander called back to his companion, taking a slower route down to the base of the cliff.

“What is it?”

“Another survivor,” Riker replied, moving quickly now, headache momentarily forgotten.

“I didn’t see any signs of a space capsule.”

“Nor did I but…” Kneeling down in the pebbles, Riker reached out to lay a couple of fingers against the survivor’s neck. He could feel a definite pulse. “She’s alive, but she’s been injured,” he told Dayna.

“She?”

“Yes, it must be my day for finding and rescuing beautiful young women.” 

Dayna looked at the unconscious newcomer. “She’s not that young,” she said dismissively, “And I found you, not the other way round.”

Riker smiled to himself. The woman was impossibly wearing a full-length white evening gown that fit the contours of her body perfectly. She had jet-black hair, full lips, and impossibly long dark eyelashes. She also had a blooded bandage wrapped round one slim leg, one of her sleeves were missing, so she had presumably attempted to use it as a bandage. The jarring sight of bright red blood denoted the fact that she had indeed been injured in some manner. “We’ll have to take her back with us,” Riker said firmly, preparing to move the unconscious woman into a position where he could pick her up more readily.

“Will we?” Dayna queried put out by the appearance of the stranger.

“You know we do. You rescued me, so now you can rescue the both of us,” Riker said picking up the insensible Servalan and holding her in his arms. “Consider this a special offer; two for the price of one.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are hotting up - or getting more confusing, depending on your point of view. Don't worry, there is a plot in here ... somewhere!

“Roj Blake, by all the stars, I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Docholli said rising to his feet to greet the bigger man warmly.

“I almost didn’t,” Blake responded. “I’m glad to see you survived too.”

“Like you it was touch and go more times than I care to think of. But sit down, Alyssa get something strong for this man, I’ll have another too, while you’re there.”

The chosen rendezvous was a small tavern just outside Epheron’s second largest city of Lenca. _The Angel Falls_ was a well-known smugglers haunt, if you knew how to get into the back room of the public house that is. Entrance was by an electronic token and 7-digit passcode.

Sitting down on a bar stool across the table from Docholli and another man Blake didn’t automatically recognise, Blake tucked his token back into his shirt out of sight. It never paid to be too careful.

“You’ve heard of Deva of course?” Docholli said introducing the other man, He was clean cut and middle aged with an intense gaze that now rested thoughtfully on Blake.

“I’ve not had the pleasure until now,” Blake said with a nod. “So what’s the news?”

“You’ve not heard?”

Blake indicated his left arm, which was still bound in a sling. “I’ve been a little busy,” he offered with a shrug.

“Haven’t we all, in the battle?” Docholli queried.

Alyssa arrived with a tray of drinks and sat down on the vacant stool beside Blake.

“This is Alyssa, she is considered one of the Federations top communications experts, and one of our best undercover agents,” Docholli said nodding in her direction.

Blake took a sip of his drink. “I mean no offence but…”

“We understand. I can vouch for them both, and have with my life, several times over. There is not a coded message sent that Alyssa can’t decipher, and when it comes to the logistics of moving people, supplies and ships around, you can’t ask better than Diva.”

Blake nodded. “Then that’s good enough for me.”

“So, tell me about your arm, in the battle?”

Blake laughed shortly. “No, would you believe Travis shot me... twice… and still couldn’t aim straight!”

Docholli, Deva, and Alyssa all laughed.

“And Travis?” Deva asked. “I always thought he was more than a little unhinged after his courts marshal.”

“A little?” Blake queried, and took another sip of his drink, turning sober. “Travis is dead,” he said with a finality that left no doubt in its wake.

“You?”

Blake indicated his arm. “No, that was Avon. Shot him in the chest, dead centre, causing Travis to nose dive into StarOne’s reactor.”

“That would do it all right.” Docholli agreed.

“Speaking of which, have you heard anything of my crew or ship? I don’t remember much, but I was put into a life pod, so the_ Liberator_ must have been badly damaged.”

Deva shook his head.

Blake looked towards Alyssa. “Anything?”

“No, nothing, sorry; but I can tell you, that you're not alone in losing or misplacing your ship. There are many abandoned, displaced, or lost crews and ships out there. I’ll keep an ear out, but I’ve not heard anything about _Liberator _specifically, but the losses on both sides have been tremendous.”

“Did we win?”

“If by we, you mean mankind, then yes, there's not much doubt the aliens were virtually wiped out, there have been a few pockets of resistance of course, where they’ve gone to ground in a couple of smaller outlying colonies.”

“They’ll be routed soon enough; the price we paid was too high to give them a chance to regroup,” Deva remarked dourly, “We lost a lot of good people, on both sides in the battle and by that I mean the Rebellion and Federation alike, and it’s not over yet...”’

“What's left of the Federation fleet, which isn't much, is scattered halfway across the galaxy.” Alyssa nodded.

“I'd say the Federation's in a lot of trouble.” Docholli agreed.

“I’ll drink to that,” Blake said raising his glass in a toast. “That’s why I’m here of course. As Avon would say “it's difficult to sustain a military dictatorship when you've lost most of the military”.”

Everyone at the table laughed again.

Deva produced several pieces of paper and plastics from the satchel sitting on the table by his side. “Our group is scheduled to meet up with Avalon’s in two days time. You’ll come with us of course. As Alyssa has said, the Federation is on its knees. It’s new President has gone missing, and…”

“A new President?” Blake queried. “Where has that come from? What happened to the last one?”

“What always happens when someone gets too ambitious?”

“Surely we can use that to our advantage?”

“Yes, that’s what Avalon is counting on. Chaos reigns nearly everywhere.”

“There’s a lot of infighting too between various factions.” Deva agreed.

“So the time to strike is now,” Docholli said firmly.

“Agreed. But with the casualties from the battle, how many ships and personal will we have?”

Deva sorted through a couple of the plastics in front of him and slid one of them across to Blake who gave a low whistle. “Right then, we’d best get a move on hadn’t we?

“Are you feeling any better now?” Donna asked Vila sitting down beside him, and handing him a mug of tea.

“A little,” Vila agreed cautiously. “I really could do with a little something extra added to this though, if you know what I mean?” he said holding out the mug of tea he’d just been given.

Donna smiled, and reached out to put a careful arm around Vila, being cautious of his arm now in a sling. A scan ran in the medical section on the Tardis had shown a simple break of the thief’s left ulnar. The Doctor had, not unsympathetically rotated it back into position, causing Vila to faint and while Vila he had been out of it, the Doctor had sprayed some instant foam over and around his arm, causing a rock hard cast in seconds.

Vila had come round pretty quickly and not wanting to be left alone, was sitting on the metal steps of the Tardis watching the Doctor tinker with something to the left and somewhat below him.

Donna smiled at Vila. “Yes I do know what you mean,” she agreed. “And it’s because I know, that I’m not going to do it.”

“Eh?”

“The Doctor has given me a couple of tablets for you to take with a drink,” Donna explained carefully, “Hold out your hand….”

Vila did so.

Donna tipped two purple pills the size of a garden pea onto his palm. “Take them with this,” she instructed pointing to the tea once more.

“Muffph… mhay… mook... moo, mall… to do any good,” Vila complained taking the pills then a sip of tea and swallowing.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that good things come in little packages?” Donna queried.

“Eh… no, at least I don’t think so.”

“Well, they do. The Doctor says they’re rather powerful, so you should expect to feel rather sleepy soon. We can make you up a spare bed.”

“I can stay then?” Vila said, not sure if he should be glad about that or not.

“For now,” The Doctor said poking his head out from underneath one of the panels on the Tardis. “Just until we can determine just whatever caused this and allowed you to enter the Tardis when we were in the middle of the Time Vortex… and no longer. Donna, don’t get too attached, he’s not some kind of puppy!” The Time Lord finished before sliding back underneath the Tardis console once more.

“Don’t worry, he’s always like this,” Donna confided.

“Oi! I can hear you perfectly well you know,” the Doctor stated.

“Then you shouldn’t have such big ears!” Donna retorted.

Already beginning to feel the effects of the medication he’d been given, Vila moved to peer down at the Doctor to see if his ears were really big.

“What are you doing?” Donna asked confused by Vila’s attempts to turn his head upside-down.

“They look the normal size to me,” he said to Donna in all seriousness. “They’re not big or… or green or pointy or anything…”

It took Donna a few moments to place the comment, and then she laughed. “Spaceman, Vila’s just checking to see if your ears are green and pointy like Spocks…”

The Doctors head appeared from below once more. “I do not look like Spock,” he said firmly. “How many of those pills did you give him Donna?”

“Only two, just like you said.”

The Doctor sighed. “I said one pill, and if he was still in pain two hours later, then give him the other, not both of them at once!”

“Well Vila said he was in a lot of pain,” Donna explained.

“And now he’s going to be as high as a kite for hours and hours.”

Donna sighed. “Are they dangerous or anything?”

Vila started to sign happily to himself, a song about a green-eared alien with big ears who went flying without permission.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “No. Those pills have a half life of twelve hours, so it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

Vila’s voice rose in octave, out of tune and off key.

“Is there nothing you can do?” Donna said putting her hands over her own ears. “No timey-wimey wibbly-wobbly stuff?”

The Doctor sighed. “Nope! I can’t go back in time and tell you not to give him the pills. We’re stuck with him until the medication wears off. If you want to help, you could hand me the No 16 spanner over there. I haven’t found anything in the automatic defence mechanism, the ADM that points to a malfunction. Something as serious as dropping out of the time vortex, landing on an unknown planet and letting in a complete stranger is… is more than impossible, and yet it happened. The Banshee circuits are working correctly, the safety precaution selector is also functioning normally, yet the Hostile Action Displacement System (HADS) did not kick in, nor did the Early warning system, our defensive shields, or the Tardis Telepathic Circuits.

“In other words, the moment we dropped out of the time vortex, the Cloister Bells should have wrong and the Temporal Grace Circuits should have worked to to 'paralyse' or 'freeze' any intruder whose bio-rhythms don't correspond to a pre-programmed list of 'friends.'

“He,” the Doctor said pointing towards Vila “should be trapped in a spare dimensional stasis field, which can only be deactivated from the Control Console, by me. It’s simply not possible to by pass every lock on this ship, open the doors, whilst she’s travelling between dimensions and ask for help.”

“But isn’t helping what you do Doctor?” Donna asked carefully, trying to calm an obviously frustrated Doctor. “You help people.”

“Yes, but… but…. Gah!” The Doctor said exasperated.

Vila paused in his rendition of the Ballard of Green Ear. “I’m good with locks,” he said with a friendly grin. “I can open anything as I always tell Avon, not that he listens to me of course. Would you like to hear of the time I rescued us all from certain death at the System’s hand with nothing more than a bobby pin I’d borrowed from Jenna?”

The Doctor and Donna shared a look.

Donna picked up the tea Vila had put down. “Try some more tea, Vila it’ll make you feel better.”

“But I feel better already.”

“Then the tea will work really well won’t it?”

“It might,” Vila conceded, searching in his tunic pocket for something. He brought out a crumpled paper bag and offered it to Donna. “Go on, try one. I’m not sure what they are, but they’re yummy,” he explained.

Gingerly putting her hand in the bag Donna exchanged another look with the Doctor as she pulled out one his jelly babies.

“What?” The Doctor spluttered.

“Come,” Picard, said in answer to the chiming of the doors to his Ready Room. He’d reached a natural break in the reports he’d been reading, so had just decided to fetch himself a drink from the replicator, and had just finished ordering his usual hot Earl Grey tea when Data stepped into the room, or at least tried to. The doors whooshed open, only to close again a second later, open once more, then try to close before seizing up completely, half open.

Giving the door a perplexed look, Data shuffled in sideways. “The glitches in the _Enterprises_ electrical systems appear to be getting worse,” he offered.

Next to Picard, the replicator in the wall offered a coughing splutter and spat out a dark blue sludge into the bottom of the Captain’s usual clear glass cup.

“I wonder what gave it away!” Picard said dryly, putting both the cup and its contents into the recycling bin. “Let’s try that again shall we? Is Mr La Forge any closer to fixing these glitches?” 

“I do not believe so Captain,” Data said calmly. “Although I know he has several teams of engineers working on the problems as they arise. Just a moment ago the automatic watering system in hydroponic bay four decided that it was monsoon season and caused a fair amount of damage to the substrate the plants need in order to grow; additionally the over abundance of water in that area have caused several small leaks to appear in the storage facility below.”

“I trust the clean up crews are already on site?”

“Yes sir.”

“Could the anomaly be the cause of these faults? How soon before the preliminary report from sciences will be ready?”

“I estimate another 26 minutes, 43 seconds sir, but I do not believe the energy output from the phenomenon is the cause of our ship wide computer malfunctions. Whist it is true that we are still in the process of an external and internal system-wide sensor sweep and diagnostic scan, in order to locate the true cause, early indications suggest that the fault lies internally although from an external source.”

Picard frowned. “An internal external source? You do realise Mr Data that you have just appeared to contradict yourself?”

“Yes sir. It is a puzzle that we are still working on.”

“Very well, I expect a report in due course… Merde! What has this damn machine given me now?” Picard said looking at the milky brown liquid in a new glass cup.

Data took a step forward and sniffed the air carefully. “I do believe it is coffee sir. Black Ivory, with milk. Some purists say that coffee should be drunk unadulterated without milk and any added sweetener such as honey, sugar, or fructose. They also believe that for a truly exceptional cup, one should roast and grind your own beans for the ultimate in freshness and flavour. For rarity value there is an animal native to Earth called the Palm Civet or Civet Cat. These animals ingest the coffee beans themselves but most of the bean survives intact through the creature’s digestive system. It is then collected and turned into coffee called Kopi Luwak. The Tellarites have a similar collection method with one their aquatic mammals the largely nocturnal…”

“Thank you Mr Data, that’s quite enough on coffee,” Picard said eyeing his beverage with disfavour. He decided to take a cautious sip. “Hmm, not tea obviously,” he said with evident distaste.

“No sir. As your replicator is malfunctioning, you could always send down to Ten Forward for your tea.”

“And have Guinan lecture me on drinking too much of the stuff? Thank you Data, I suppose this will have to do. It’s better than the blue stuff at any rate.”

“Yes sir,” Data agreed. “Although are you aware that if you do imbed too much tea that the caffeine it contains can lead to both mild or to serious side effects. These include, but are not limited to headaches, nervousness, sleep dysfunctions’, vomiting, diarrhoea, irritability, irregular heart…”

“Transporter Room Three to Captain Picard.”

“Picard here,” the Captain said tapping his combadge to open the channel and cutting across the start of Data’s lecture on tea.

“Ensign Peterson sir, I don’t quite know how to say this but we’ve just lost contact with Lt Commander Worf and his security detail.”

Picard exchanged a look with Data. “What do you mean we’ve lost contact?” he asked. 

“Ensign you were supposed to keep a transporter lock on the Away Tea at all times. Do you mean to say you’ve lost that too? Data added.

“Yes Commander and I can’t seem to raise them at all Captain. I’ve tried and tried, and double, triple checked my settings and the controls. I have no explanation, but they were there one moment and gone the next…”

Picard drew a breath. “Stay right were you are Ensign, do not touch anything further, we’ll be with you in a moment.” The Captain said then tapped his combadge to close the channel. “Glitches aside, two transporter malfunctions depriving this ship of both her First Officer and Security Chief, in the presence of an as yet undetermined anomaly is too much of a coincidence for my taste.

“We need to get to the bottom of this quickly. Mr Data, you’re with me,” he instructed putting down his drink and exiting his Ready Room by squeezing sideways through the door as Data had done. “Mr Walker,” he said addressing the junior Lieutenant operating Worf’s customary station at tactical. “Kindly see if you can raise Commander Worf and/or his on the planet below please.”

“Yes sir.”

Picard forced himself to stand still, his eyes dawn to the purple/blue/white spinning haze that was the anomaly, just visible on the bottom left of the viewscreen, whilst the main view which half filled it, was of the planet below. Both seemed quiet and innocuous.

Data moved to confer briefly with the officer currently filling in for him at his ops station. The atmosphere on the bridge was tense but professional, while everyone waited to hear if Walker could raise Worf. Picard sent Troi a silent look, which she replied with a quick shake of her head. She couldn’t sense anything unusual.

A full minute passed while the Lieutenant jg attempted to raise the _Enterprise’s_ Chief of Security or anyone on the Away Team and failed. 

“I can’t seem to manage it sir,” the junior officer finally admitted.

Picard nodded, keeping his worry hidden. “Thank you Mr Walker, as you were. Commander Lenko, you have the Comm, Mr Data, if you’d be so good as to come with me?” the captain said gesturing for Data to walk ahead of him to the turbolift at the back of the bridge. “I’ll be back in a short while, but in the meantime can someone get my blasted door fixed, oh and see to the replicator too. I do not drink coffee!”

Picard waited until he and Data were in the turbolift before he said anything. “Deck 6,” the Captain ordered curtly before turning to his Second Officer. “Thoughts Mr Data? I was hoping that the little test on the bridge should rule out the same electrical malfunction that’s currently playing havoc in Transporter Room Three,” he confided. “Or indeed, if that is the case.”

Data tilted his head fractionally to one side processing the Captains words at lightning speed. “An interesting hypothesis sir,” he concluded. “However if the glitch in the system has lead to a ship wide communication failure then we would not be any the wiser; both instances would produce identical results, just as we’ve now seen.”

The Captain frowned “You’re saying this goes further than just a couple of isolated incidents? You think this is all connected somehow? To what? The anomaly or something more we haven’t seen as yet?”

“I do not know Sir, that is what the engineering and science departments are trying to ascertain,” Data said softly. “An anomaly is, by its very definition, unknown.”

Picard frowned. “You’re quite right of course,” he agreed and tapped his combadge. “Commander La Forge, how is the diagnostic on Transporter One progressing.”

“La Forge here, slowly Captain. Commander Data was going to brief you on the additional system wide disturbances we’ve been experiencing.”

“I am here with the Captain Geordi,” Data confirmed. “I believe he’s been well versed in some of the malfunctions, to whit the door to his Ready Room and the room’s replicator system.”

“When I can spare a team, I’ll send them up, but there is not much more I am able to tell you Captain, other than the fact that we have yet to find any cause for either in these new glitches or the cause of the original transporter malfunction.”

“Understood Mr La Forge, at your convenience perhaps you’d care to meet the Mr Data and myself in room 2054.”

“Transporter Room Three?” La Forge queried.

“Yes Geordi, the malfunctions have spread further than we anticipated. We seem to have… misplaced more crew…”

Cally was nearly insensate by the time her escape pod finally came to rest, bouncing across the dry dessert sand, flipping upwards every now and then when it hit a small rock or bolder. The escape pods booster rocket had started to fail several hours ago, causing the escape pod to limp along at ½ the speed of light as well limiting the supply of oxygen in the capsule.

With a final couple of bounces, the life pod came to a juddering halt.

All was quiet except for the hiss of metal as it started to cool.

Minutes passed under the blazing hot sun of the planet. The hissing stopped to be replaced first by a soft drip; drip, dripping and then a softer swoosh. Moments later the first wispy tendrils of smoke appeared.

It was the smoke that dragged Cally closer towards consciousness. The Auron forced her eyes open and coughed in the tainted air. It felt unbearably hot in the escape pod, Cally shivered aware she was going into shock. Using the last of her strength, she struggled to push open the escape hatch, and half fell outside.

With Towson sent back the way he’d come to meet up with Portman and D’Son and advise them of the situation, Worf spent a few minutes fastening and then testing the restraints around Kleggs wrists. The Klingon making doubly sure the Section Leader was secured to an integral part of the ships structure, rather than a chair or desk, ensuring he wouldn’t be able to free himself. Straightening he stumbled slightly as the deck appeared to move beneath him. “Did you feel that?” he asked Tarrant who was still tying up the second trooper.

“Indeed,” Tarrant agreed, fastening the last handcuff in place. “I would imagine we have probably changed course or more likely increased speed again. The_ Liberator_ has been doing that off and on for several hours.”

“Collecting more rebel scum no doubt,” Klegg said spitting on the floor.

Both Worf and Tarrant ignored him. “The… _Liberator_ is presumably using fixed points as navigational aids,” Worf suggested.

“Yes, that was my first thought as well,” Tarrant agreed. “Are you a pilot?”

“No, I am Chief of Security aboard the _Enterprise_. However all Command Officers are required to have basic flight training and navigation skills. Compared to a true pilot I have rudimentary knowledge at best.” A thought struck Worf. “Are you aware of our current location? For example the_ Enterprise _was on a course of 009 mark 672 holding a high orbit round planet RK2579. The planet had an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere able to support carbon life. RK2579 is classified as a Db3 planet, which means it that any inhabitants are unlikely to have developed space travel.”

“An interesting and concise hypothesis,” Tarrant said approvingly. “However I’ve not heard of RK2579, so can’t comment on its classification.”

“Thank you, but not entirely unexpected,” Worf acknowledged as both he and Tarrant exited the room where they’d detained Klegg and two of his troopers. They watched the door slide shut behind them. 

“I wish we could properly secure the room,” Tarrant said staring at the unfamiliar keypad of the door release mechanism.

Worf aimed his phaser at the lock and fired a short burst at it, melting, and fusing the circuitry.

Tarrant grinned. “Simple, yet effective,” he approved.

“I would have preferred to secure them in the Brig,” Worf grumbled.

“Ah, I have yet to find that particular section as yet,” Tarrant, admitted. “However to get back to your question, I have to admit I don’t know precisely where we are either. I was caught up in fighting what I know as the intergalactic war, with the inhabitants of the Andromedian Galaxy, the closest tours. They seem to be a rather hostile and hellishly blood thirsty bunch. They don’t tend to have any use for prisoners, rather adopt a shoot first, second and third before going in with their knives and laser pistol things type of people. I was several clicks away from Altern V, a Federation stronghold and a fall back position for us to regroup when my ship the _Talisman_ went down.”

“They sound like men who know little of Honour,” Wolf stated with disgust. “However I do not know of an Altern V, or have a frame of reference for your Andromedian Galaxy.”

“Not entirely unexpected now, but a bit of a blow nonetheless. I foresee it could be somewhat tricky to find a common frame of reference, if you don’t recognise either Altern V or Andromeda, and I don’t recognise RH2579. Still it’ll keep us on our toes that’s for sure. In the mean time, we still have two of Kleggs men to find, and we need to establish where the _Liberator_ is heading, and if anything on its screen looks familiar to either of us.”

“You are not able to access this ships navigation system?”

“No, not at all, ever since Klegg and his men, and then I boarded her, we’re just been along for the ride. It appears to be acting on a predetermined set of instructions, presumably to locate this ships original crew and recover them.”

Worf nodded. “That would be logical,” he agreed. “However perhaps my tricorder might serve as an interface and give us access to some of the ships functions.”

“A tricorder? I’ve never heard of one of those,” Tarrant admitted curious. “What is it and what does it do?”

Worf unclipped the pouch containing his tricorder and showed it to Tarrant, though he didn’t offer to let him touch it, and carefully returned it to its carrier. “It is a handheld device which combines sensors, atmospheric analysis, proximity checks, communications, and a universal translator. This is a model TR-580 mark 7. I am hoping it will be of some assistance to us now. Let us get to the bridge and establish a base of operations before we decide how to proceed.”

“Yes of course, I was thinking the flight deck might be a good place to start, unless you’d rather stay in the teleport facility? If the ship is about to pick up any of its crew, I think that’s where they’ll appear, rather than docking with the ship now she’s in flight mode.”

Worf thought about it. “Yes I agree. I can get a couple of my men to cover the transporter area. You and I will head to the bridge,” he said firmly.

“As you wish,” Tarrant agreed.

Worf was silent for several minutes as they made their way through the oddly shaped hexagonal corridors lit on four sides and the ceiling by elongated light panels. “The centre of the Federation is Sol III or Terra in Sector 001 of the Alpha quadrant,” he offered finally.

“Ah, for us Terran is one of the main languages of Earth,” Tarrant, ”and is in the 9th Sector, our mapping system radiates out from Earth, the founding planet of the Federation, we don’t work on quadrants.”

“I believe Earth is another name for Sol III.” Worf agreed. “Though our intergalactic travel contains four sectors in the United Federation of Planets, then we have the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Star Empire, the Cardassian Union, The Tholian Assembly, the Naberrite Alliance and at least two or three dozen other minor systems or unallied planets.”

Tarrant whistled. “Well, I hate to say it, but you’re bigger than us, especially after the routing we’ve just had with the Andromedans. When we have the time, we’ll have to sit down and have a proper show and tell, but right now I think we may have a few more pressing problems,” he said having spotted the silhouette of one of Kleggs troopers apparently holding two of Worf’s security guards.

Ducking back down the corridor, Tarrant pulled Worf with him, or at least he tried to, surprised by the body mass of his new friend. “We need to come up with a plan,” he hastily whispered to Worf, finally getting the Klingon to move back out of sight with him. “Give me your gun, I’ll walk you up to Marv at supposed gunpoint, and while he’s distracted you can bop him one.”

“Agreed,” Worf said with a nod, through narrowed eyes. It was a good plan, as long as Tarrant didn’t play him false. However, Tarrant had already helped him take out two of the troopers and Klegg himself, and this other man had captured two of his men, which gave them a 4:2 ratio. Therefore, the odds were on Worf’s side regardless of Tarrant’s intentions. 

“I found this one hanging around the teleport bay,” Tarrant said strolling onto the flight deck with his gun planted visibly in Worf’s side. “I see you’ve managed to capture another two of our guests as well. Well done Yarrow.”

“Thank you sir, Phillips said he wanted to finish checking the ships storage facilities in cargo bay one, then he’ll be right up.”

“Excellent, you have done well,” Tarrant said warmly, deliberately indicating with his gun that Worf should cross in front of Yarrow to join the rest of his security team.

Yarrow, still basking in Tarrant’s praise and unconsciously relaxing due to Tarrant’s own calm attitude, lowered his own weapon to let Worf pass between them, and didn’t have time to react before Worf struck with lightning efficiency and dealt him a knock-out blow to his chin, felling him instantly.

Portman and D’Son were surprised, unable to comprehend what had just happened until Worf barked at D’Son to hand him his cuffs.

“I’m sorry sir, he just seemed to come at us out of nowhere,” D’Son apologised handing over the restraints.

“I will hear your full report at a later date,” Worf said firmly.

Tarrant stepped in. “To be fair, the troopers have been on this ship for three days already, they had to search it thoroughly from the start in order to claim it her prize money.”

Worf gave Tarrant a look. “Officers are not supposed to be captured so easily. They will be dealt with a later time. For now however, we need to remove this individual from the bridge and prepare a plan to capture the remaining trooper before he discovers what has happened.”

“Yarrow said Phillips is in cargo bay one, I will simply walk up to him and ask him if he’s seen the others, he won’t suspect a thing. I’ll even take one of your men with me if you like?”

Jean-Luc Picard strode into Sickbay, irritated and worried in equal measure. He walked straight into Crushers office. “Doctor, it is now imperative that I speak with your patient,” he said firmly.

“I’m sorry Captain, he did regain consciousness, albeit briefly, but the trauma he sustained was too much for him and he lost it very soon afterwards.”

“Did you get a chance to ask him anything?”

“Only his name.”

“And?”

Beverley shook her head.

“Then you need to wake him again Doctor.”

“He needs to rest.”

“And I need to speak with him. We have lost four more of this ship’s crew. We are in uncharted space, with some kind of anomaly breathing down our necks and odd malfunctions popping up in various areas. If he has any idea how any of this has happened…”

“You surely can’t hold him responsible for the disappearance of the crew? 

“No, I am not suggesting that, however the fact remains that Commander Riker, Will, went down to rescue him, and Worf and his men vanished while he was here in sickbay.” Picard said firmly. “Ergo I need to speak with him.”

Beverly Crusher looked at Picard. She understood and shared his concern for their missing crewmembers; however, her adherence to the Hippocratic Oath remained strong. Reluctantly she stood. “Very well, two minutes Captain, no more, it won’t do to overtire him.”

Avon was situated in ITU, and had the suite to himself.

Raising the level of the light by 20%, Dr Crusher crossed the room to stare thoughtfully at the biofunction screen above Avon for several moments before picking up a hypospray and giving him a small shot of stimulant.

It worked almost immediately.

Avon drew a breath, doing his best not to wince at the immediate stabbing pain his chest. Groaning slightly as he came round he realised pretty quickly that he had one hell of a headache; in fact, he ached all over, feeling as if he’d gone several rounds with Travis and almost didn’t win.

Another breath, which he wished he hadn’t taken.

“Hello, I’m hoping you’re back with us again. I’m not sure how much you remember. We found you in your life pod on the planet below.” Beverly Crusher said carefully, watching Avon’s vital signs closely.

Drawing a shallower breath, one that didn’t hurt so much, Avon opened his eyes. Despite the continued headache, his vision was clear this time, enabling him to see the unfamiliar tiled ceiling of the _Enterprise’s _surgical unit.

“Hello again,” Crusher tried as Avon’s dark eyes fixed unblinkingly upon her. His expression was completely blank, giving nothing away as he struggled to make sense his surroundings.

“My name is Beverly Crusher. You were injured. We brought you back to our ship to treat your injuries. You’re safe now,” Beverly continued. “You had a few fairly serious injuries and at least a couple of bumps on your head; you may have concussion, so don’t be alarmed if you can’t remember. But do you know what caused you to abandon your ship?”

Avon said nothing, taking shallow breaths, as he attempted to piece together what had happened.

Crusher frowned, noticing Avon’s obvious breathing difficulties. “I can give you something that will help with that,” she suggested, dialling a strong analgesic into the hypospray and injecting Avon with it.

Avon had held perfectly still, and continued to look at the doctor as his pain eased.

Crusher turned to Picard. “I really don’t think he’s going to be able to help us at the moment,” she said firmly. “I’ve just had to give him 5cc’s Terakine and Hydrocortilene to ease his pain.”

“Noted doctor,” Picard said with a nod stepping round Beverly to take her place besides Avon’s bedside. “I don’t intend to keep you for long, I’m aware that you’ve been in a shuttle accident,” Picard told Avon carefully. The Captain had moderated his tone somewhat to take account of the fact that Avon was obviously unwell.

Avon looked at Picard. His mind felt distinctly woolly, and as the redhead had suggested there were gaps in his memory. He had no recollection of leaving the _Liberator_, crash-landing on any planet, or any rescue afterwards. The clothing the man and woman were wearing were unfamiliar to him, as was what little design of the ship he could see.

Frustrated Picard looked at Crusher, who returned his gaze with an ‘I told you so’ one of her own. Nevertheless, the Captain tried again. “My name is Jean-Luc Picard, I’m the Captain of the _USS Enterprise_, we’re a Federation star ship, and we consider you our guest aboard this ship. Now, is there anything you can tell us? Anything you can remember about how you came to be in your life pod? What happened to your ship? Did it have something to do with the anomaly?”

Avon wasn’t really thinking clearly, but he heard the word “Federation” with startling clarity. The bald headed man talking to him wasn’t wearing the standard Federation uniform and the ships design was unfamiliar to him; which lead him to come to the logical conclusion that he was aboard an experimental vessel. Was this how they’d defeated the aliens? 

Avon stopped appalled as a new thought took hold. If he were aboard a Federation ship, he would be in enough trouble. He knew all too well how the Federation treated their guests. Now he was awake, it wouldn’t be long before he was thrown into a cell. 

However what if they hadn’t defeated the aliens? Or at least some of them had survived? Despite the pounding in his head, and gaps in his memory, Avon remembered how the aliens he’d seen on Star One had appeared human until he’d shot a couple of them. Had they lost the battle then and he was aboard an Alien ship? Was this some kind of elaborate trap?

“We don’t have much by way of a first aid kit, just the usual disinfectant, dressings, bandages, wipes, clips, scissors, lint and some quick set foam, left over from when Iesha broke her arm once, some energy tablets and some plasters, I think.” Dayna said, still sounding a bit miffed as she escorted Riker down the spiral steps to her underground home, helping him carry the strange woman they’d found with great reluctance.

There had been no one on the beach when they’d finally made it down to the shoreline, whereupon Will had been more than a little surprised when Dayna stopped after they’d only walked a dozen or so metres before dropping to the sand, and starting to dig. He was even more surprised to see the glint of a polished metal surface reflect back in the dying suns rays after a couple of moments.

“Your family really like trap doors don’t you,” he’d said watching Dayna in amazement. “I know you said you lived in the sea, but I thought you meant you had an entrance way near a tidal cave or something.”

“Oh we do, there’s another entrance to our home about 600 metres off in that direction, but this is closer and I didn’t want to take the chance of being seen. I told you, you wouldn’t get your feet wet remember?” Dayna had said using a magnetic passkey to unlock the airlock. Now she looked at Riker with wary reluctance as they reached the bottom of the staircase.

The staircase opened up the last few feet to give a view of the open planned interior of the big main room. The walls, ceiling and floor were all some kind of silvered metal, and while their were several cream coloured couches and other homely touches about the place, the cylindrical support struts and venting systems; interface panels and hatches for service ducts gave away the nature of Dayna’s home immediately.

“We’re inside a space ship,” Riker said looking round him in amazement.

“A fixed orbit station, but to be fair you were close,” Dayna said, thawing slightly. “My father flew her here and then beached her just over twenty years ago.”

“Some feet of engineering, to get her down intact. How did he do it I wonder? The heat of re-entry alone would have put an enormous strain on her outer hull.”

“You can ask him about that in a minute when you meet him. In the meantime we need to decide what to do about her.”

“She needs medical attention.”

“Well yes, as I’ve said before we only have very limited supplies, so we don’t have much. There’s a spare bed in my room, I suppose we aught to put her there, this way.”

Once more carrying Servalan by himself, Riker obediently followed Dayna down a corridor off to his right from the staircase. “What do you do if you get sick?”

“Me, I never get sick. I don’t believe in it, and I’ve always been in the best of health. As I said before Iesha broke her arm once, and we had to send for some first aid bits with our regular supply run.”

“I thought you said you and your family lived alone?”

“We do, but we’re not primitives. We design and build security systems and have a small but loyal client bass. Once every month we have supplies we could not attain otherwise brought here.”

“So you have a way off this planet?”

“Yes and no. This is my room, you can put her down here, she can have this bed,” Dayna directed Riker. “We don’t have a ship ourselves, but our supplies are brought in by a Mark 58 planet hopper. The next one is scheduled in 29 days, as it last came 2 days ago.”

“Well, I can’t wait that long in any case. I really need to contact my ship as soon as possible. If you’re able to arrange for the shipment of supplies you must have a communication system.”

“We do. I’ll ask my father to take you there. But first, we need to deal with her. See if you can wake her while I fetch my father and let him know we have guests.”

Riker watched Dayna leave the room, taking with her several unanswered questions, before he forced himself to push them aside for the time being and concentrate on the problem at hand.

The unconscious woman felt cold to the touch, her skin quite clammy. Being very circumspect about her body, Riker quickly removed the damp sandy, formally white evening dress she’d been wearing and slipped her between the sheets of the bed, just leaving her injured leg above the covers.

Unsure of what he would find, Riker padded the ruined dress up under the leg to act as a towel and protection for the bed before he untied the cloth about Servalan’s leg. He had been right to do so, as the wound was deep, a piece of metal deeply imbedded in the thigh just above the knee. It immediately began bleeding profusely once the pressure of the bandage was removed.

Dayna hadn’t yet supplied Riker with the first aid kit that she’d spoken of, so there was little Riker could do for the moment other than retie the cloth Servalan had used as a temporary bandage anyway. He felt her wince as he did so.

“Sorry, I was just taking a look to see how bad it is,” he explained, eventually looking up.

Deep green eyes regarded him narrowly. “And?”

“There’s a foreign object which appears to be imbedded in your thigh which needs to be removed.”

“Yes, I thought as much myself. Are you a doctor?”

“No, a Starfleet Officer, but I’ve had medical training.” Riker said carefully, greatly surprised that the unknown woman seemed completely composed and quite lucid. She had to be in a lot of pain, yet it didn’t show from her demeanour.

“How fortunate for me.”

Riker offered his patient a smile. “Someone has gone to fetch a medical kit,” Riker continued. 

“Again I am most grateful.” Servalan said carefully. She was in a fair amount of discomfort, but quite determined not to let it show, or demonstrate any kind of weakness until she had worked out exactly where she was. She didn’t recognise Rikers uniform and had certainly never heard of Starfleet. “So, who do I thank for my timely rescue? You must have a name?” she said offering Riker a smile of her own.

Riker grinned in response. “It’s Will,” he offered. “Do you have a name as well?”

Servalan drew a breath. “You can call me Sleer,” she suggested.


	5. Chapter 5

Parts of the Tardis surrounded the Doctor where he had been methodically stripping it down in order to find out just how Vila had managed to get past all the security systems and pluck the Tardis from the time vortex. It shouldn’t have been possible, yet there was no denying it had happened. Vila sound asleep and snoring loudly on the grating by the coral shaped console was proof of that. 

“Donna, hand me that thingummy,” The Doctor asked his assistant. They’d both decided to leave Vila quietly alone, as he had an enormously loud singing voice, and not in a particularly tuneful one.

Donna looked at the various tools and paraphernalia the Time Lord had been using to dismantle various parts of the Tardis with, and sighed. She’d offered to help, and as a Temp, she had long since learned the art of fixing various bits around the office, but she had to admit that mostly everything on the Tardis and how it functioned was beyond her. “Which particular thingummy would that be; the red one, blue one, darker blue one, the bent one, or the one with umpteen twiddly bits on it?”

“There should be a silver one with a size two sprue socket on one end and a 36mm ring spanner on the other,” the Doctor said helpfully.

“Sprocket and ring, silver,” Donna muttered to herself finally selecting a tool that was the right colour, had a hexagonal hole in one end and something that looked like a multi pronged cog in the other. She handed it to the Doctor, who took it without looking until he tried to use it.

“Donna I said sprue socket, you’ve handed me a sprocket,” the Doctor said handing it back, then waving is hand in the air waiting for the correct instrument to be found.

“This one?” Donna asked, picking another one more or less at random. “It’s all very well taking the Tardis apart like this, but how long is it going to take to put her back?”

“I can’t do that until I know what’s wrong with her.”

“You’ve been at it for hours all ready, and you haven’t found anything have you?”

“Nope, but that doesn’t mean nothing is wrong, just that I’m not looking in the right place yet. Ah, this is more like it,” the Doctor said eagerly, twisting something free, and then wriggling backwards out from under the grating beneath the console. “Do you know what this is?”

Donna looked at the object.

“Well?” the Doctor said getting to his feet. “I need to test it,”

“It’s a light bulb,” Donna said slowly.

“Yes it is. But not just any light bulb. Do you know what’s special about it?

Donna looked at the lightbulb. “It’s red?” she said doubtfully.

“Yes it is, now where did I put my sonic?”

“In your trouser pocket away from Vila,” Donna said automatically.

The Doctor felt in his pock and retrieved his sonic screwdriver then spent several minutes, trying to juggle the lightbulb while changing the settings on his screwdriver.

Donna watched him. “Would you like me to hold that for you?” she offered patiently.

“Thanks,” the Doctor said offering her his sonic.

Donna gave him a look. “What am I supposed to do with this Dumbo? I meant the other way round?”

“Oh right, yes of course. Just be very careful of it.”

“Why, it’s a light bulb, sorry a red light bulb.” Donna said taking the glass object. “I don’t see what’s so special about it?”

“When the Tardis is in danger, the cloister bell should sound, and the light should come on in warning,” The Doctor replied simply.

Donna looked at where the cloister bell sat on the floor, a cascade of wires still attached to the Tardis for the most part, piled around it. The Doctor had prodded and poked it for a good hour or so, to no avail, unable to find any faults. “That one there? What can a simple light bulb tell you, which that whole heap of… wires and stuff couldn’t?” she asked sceptically.

Having finished fine-tuning his sonic the Doctor took back his bulb and touched the connective points of it to the end of the screwdriver. It lit up immediately.

“No that not it then.” The Doctor said handing the bulb back to Donna.

“There may be another explanation,” Donna said holding the bulb as if it were a particularly nasty object.

“Yes?”

“The Tardis isn’t in any danger,”

“Then how do you explain him?” the Doctor said with a nod towards Vila.

“Are you sure he’s not faking it?” the Captain said in frustration looking at Beverly. He had been unable to get a word out of their guest.

“As I explained to you Jean-Luc, he’s still rather poorly, concussion and memory loss is a very real probability, he’s in pain, and shock. I don’t blame him for not wanting to talk.” Crusher said reasonably. “Give him a little more time, an hour, or two...”

“And in the meantime members of my crew are still missing, and this ship is still experiencing unexplained malfunctions.”

“Yes, I understand that, but as I’ve also said before, you can’t surely blame him for their disappearances or the malfunctions?”

Picard looked at Beverly then continued to pace once more, thinking. “What if,” he said slowly.

“Yes?”

“You said he has a brain injury,”

“Concussion and bruising to the left side of his frontal lobe yes,” Beverly agreed cautiously.

“And you said he’s not quite human?”

“There are slight differences to his DNA. Our sensors say he’s both human and not fully human, or not from this time – although with the system malfunctions that have been reported, that could just be an error that’s gone undetected.”

“You’ve had other problems in sick bay?”

“No, not now I come to think of it.”

“So… what if, our out of time, not human, human, who has concussion, is somehow causing these malfunctions in his unconscious state?” Captain Picard queried.

Crusher looked at Picard. “I think that’s unlikely,” she said after a brief pause. “But it’s easy enough to check. I’m still keeping a close eye on his vital signs, so any anomalies would show up on his biofunction monitor.” Typing in a few commands on the screen at her desk, Crusher quickly called up Avon’s stats. “I’m not seeing anything out of the ordinary,” she admitted. “See, look here and here,” perfectly normal for someone with a brain injury who is experiencing some degree of concussion and discomfort.

Picard drew a breath. “Whilst I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I think I may call Councillor Troi and ask her to pay our patient a visit, if you have no objection?”

“Other than the fact I’ve told you he needs to rest. You’re the captain, Captain.”

“Yes I am,” Picard agreed. “And in this instance, I think I’m going to follow my instinct. Picard to Councillor Troi, can you meet me in the Chief Medical Officers office immediately please?”

“Yes sir, I’m on my way,” Deanna agreed responding to Picard’s hail.

The Tardis suddenly rocked, catching both the Doctor and Donna off guard.

“What the hell has just happened?” The Doctor asked, looking worried and alarmed, reaching immediately for the keyboard on the console, moving the monitor screen closer to him, while he manipulated another lever with one foot, so he could see what was going on outside. Had something bumped into the Tardis? It had been growing dark by the time Vila had stumbled upon them in the unexplained alleyway, but that was what should be outside now.

The jolt had caused Donna to drop the light bulb she had been holding. Fortunately, it didn’t break, but bounced on Vila and then rolled off down the steps of the main console. Donna stepped round Vila to chase after it.

Vila stirred woken by the motion of the Tardis, and then the sound of Donna’s feet running past him.

“Have I missed something? I was having a lovely dream,” he yawned bewildered.

Distracted by Vila, the Doctor didn’t notice Donna reach for the Tardis doors to steady herself as she bent to pick up the light bulb, just at the same time Deanna Troi entered turbolift One from the bridge.

The two women briefly caught sight of each other as they passed, then the Tardis doors shut as did the turbolift’s leaving Deanna in the Tardis, to the sound of a loud bonging noise, and Donna on the bridge of the _Enterprise _holding a glowing red light bulb.

“It’s glowing red Doctor,” Donna said with mix of excitement and dismay, looking down at the lightbulb in her hands. She had just enough time to see the look of incomprehension and horror on the Doctors face before the turbolift doors closed between them. “What? Oh no you don’t,” Donna said hitting the doors with the palm of one hand. “Open this door right now you idiot, it can’t be as bad as all that?” she continued, not noticing that she was hitting the grey turbolift doors and not the blue ones of the Tardis.

Counsellor Troi had been discussing the recent calisthenics programme Worf had modified for Human use with Commander Lenko, the Duty Officer on the Bridge, when Picard had asked her to join him in Sick Bay. 

Lenko was the first to see Donna Noble therefore, and his reaction was as instinctive as swift. “Intruder on the Bridge, Red Alert,” he said swiftly, standing up to face Donna. “Security to the bridge; stay were you are, don’t move.”

It was only when the lighting on the bridge dimmed red and a claxon started to sound that Donna realised that something was dreadfully wrong. Not only was she no longer on the Tardis, what should have been the alleyway outside the Tardis, was no longer there either. It was only when she turned round slowly, that she saw the extent of her predicament however, for she was in on the bridge of a very hostile looking spaceship and very clearly in space one more.

Everyone was looking at her, and now pointing weapons at her as well she realised a moment later as the doors opposite and behind her opened to admit four armed security guards in black and gold uniforms all pointing their weapons at her.

“Wait, please I can explain,” she said hastily, “I’m not really an intruder or anything, I shouldn’t really be here, I just stepped out of the Tardis by mistake, trying to catch this, the Doctor’s lightbulb and…” Donna stopped looking down at the lightbulb in her hands; impossibly it was still brilliantly lit up – without any sign of a power source. Not only was that a puzzle in itself, but she quickly realised how silly her story sounded. “I don’t suppose you’re going to believe me are you?” she finished.

Deanna Troi had been enjoying a quite conversation with Lenko. He had joined the _Enterprise_ eight months ago from the _USS Destroyer_ and had been an exemplary Officer, polite, easy going, hard working, and good company when he was off duty. He had quickly joined Crusher, Troi and a few others in their daily workout sessions, and had jumped at the chance of trying Worf’s Human grade calisthenics programme, proving very adapt at rock climbing and rope jumping.

The conversation had also been Deanna’s way of keeping her mind off Will and Worf. She wasn’t able to get a sense of either of them, in a truly empathic way, as she could when they were aboard the ship, but she didn’t have the feeling that either one were in any danger either. What she could feel was something akin to having a veil drawn up between them. A situation she didn’t like and wasn’t used to. For the past couple of hours now, she had been straining her ½ Betazoid senses to the limit, trying to catch the faintest impression of the missing crew, to no avail. Deanna was tired and on edge therefore, and didn’t notice where she was walking until it was too late.

Deanna was also aware the Picard was troubled, not only by the loss of his officers, but by his inability to converse with the man they had rescued on the planet below; a man who, if they had not stopped to help, would not have caused the _Enterprise _to be without her First Officer and Security Chief.

Deanna was already deep in thought as she walked up the slope of the bridge to the rear turbolift entrance and pressed the button for the lift to open, and stepped inside a moment later. Catching a brief glimpse of Donna as they passed each other, Troi didn’t register she was in the wrong place until she was hit by an immense wall of noise and sensation. The Tardis’ cloister bell was loud; vibrating the very air with its doleful sound as a wave of telepathic welcome/acceptance washed through her like a static charge leaving her gasping.

Taking a step back in order to distance herself from the feeling to prevent herself being overwhelmed, it was only when she trod on something and heard it crunch that Troi, looking down, realised there was a metal deck beneath her feet, not carpet, covered with parts of a disassembled something. Her back hit the closed door of the Tardis as she picked up on another range of emotion …shock/disbelief and anger.

A shimmery blue/green mist hung in the air about half a metre off the ground, swirling with unseen and unfelt eddies as half a dozen figures slipped between the shadows to make their way to a small vessel in Lenka’s spaceport, skirting the yellow/white lights beaming skyward on the landing bays.

A soft chattering sound reached the small party, and they stopped, holding their breaths as a small cluster of Epheron’s indigenous natives passed close to them and came to a halt. Dark eyed, with bioluminescent fur and webbed feet, the Wombatesque creatures known colloquially as a TootToot, due to the high-pitched call they made when disturbed or anxious returned the regard of the shadow men thoughtfully. Mildly telepathic, with rudimentary language skills, Blake could feel them brushing an enquiry up against his mind. He tried to return the feeling in kind, firmly thinking of the word ‘friend’.

The lead TootToot stepped forward and placed a paw on Blake’s right foot while he sniffed him cautiously. Blake had a fleeting impression of ‘acceptance’, and then the group of TootToot’s took off, running quickly across the spaceport on their own business once more.

“That was close,” Deva whispered, letting out a foggy breath he’d been holding. “They’re known to give the alarm if they come across anything suspicious or they’re startled.”

“We must be doing something that seems logical to them then,” Blake responded. “How much further before we reach the _Winterbourne_?”

“You can see her from here, just over there, left of the starcruiser,” Docholli responded softly, “No more talking, let’s get out of here.”

They reached the _Winterbourne_ without further discovery, Blake ducking his head as he entered her. _Winterbourne _was a small Class 6 personal runabout, capable of transporting four people and a respectable amount of cargo, or seven sitting close with just hand luggage.

There were already a couple of people in the runabout as Blake sat down in one of the rear seats, facing Diva including a pilot with a shock of pink hair. Allyssa was not accompanying them, her sympathies with the Rebels still unknown by the Federation in this sector, made her more useful in her current position. She would do her part by giving them flight clearance and then making them disappear from any of the spaceports logs.

“Blake, this is Martin, Moss, and Payton,” Docholli said making the introductions quietly. “We’ll talk more once we’re clear of the spaceport, I’m sure you understand? Our pilot is Octavia.”

“Of course.”

“Welcome aboard gentlemen, fasten your restraints please, this could get rather bumpy,” Octavia told her passengers, electronically sealing the runabout’s clamshell hatch and running though a quick prelaunch check list. There was a tense moment when she contacted Flight Control to request clearance to leave; after the slightest of pauses, a voice recognisable to Blake; that of Allyssa, gave permission for the _Winterbourne_ to clear the spaceport, and moments after that, the runabout’s main booster rockets fired and she was air-born.

Blake along with everyone else was pressed back in his seat by the velocity.

“Sorry about that,” Octavia said over the roar of the engines, “My old girl has seen better days I’m afraid.”

“No apologies necessary,” Deva returned, practically yelling to make himself heard, “we’re just glad you were able to pick us up.”

Due to the roar of the booster rockets, there was no chatter in the _Winterbourne_ as Octavia expertly guided her craft through Epheron’s atmosphere, followed by the planetary defences that consisted of a hastily thrown together minefield, and out of range for the radarscope.

Clear of any possible observation, Octavia switched from the booster rockets to the runabouts hydrogen/oxygen fuel cells, and changed course. “You can unbuckle yourselves now, though you may find we’re a little light on gravity. Avalon is running on a tight schedule, so we need to cut a few corners in order to meet our rendezvous on time, and use most of our power on speed.”

Unbuckling himself Blake stretched slightly. “Where are we going?”

“Morphenniel,” Octavia replied, reaching above her head to open a small compartment and taking out a datawafer. “Docholli, Avalon told me to give this to you,” she said leaning back to give the green chip to the surgeon.

Docholli took the chip with a nod, and carefully maneuvered his reader from the satchel he’d brought on board containing the groups papers. He scanned the data with narrowed eyes. “Our next target,” he announced.

“Which is?” Payton responded, he was a computer tech by trade, but had a sideline in the resistance, blowing up things as loudly and expansively as possible.

“An attack on Dragus Three; we’re going in heavy handed to destroy the facility, it’s the only Mutoid factory the Federation still has in operation. To take that out would be quite a coup. There is also a communications hub near by which she intends to target. A third team will be tasked with the disruption of the blood serum supply line for the remaining Mutoids. The supply line is controlled from Dragus’ second satellite. The plan is not to destroy the facility, but to implant a virus Avalon’s team have been working on which will taint the serum, rendering the Mutoids inactive in a matter of days.”

“Ambitious,” Blake said approvingly.

Having left Portman and D’Son on the flight deck of the _Liberator_ to monitor any further communications or course changes and to keep Towson there should he turn up, Worf and Tarrant had taken their new prisoner Yarrow to a different unused room, tied him up and phasered the door lock, fusing it shut.

“A good job Klegg had less than ½ a dozen men with him, or we’d eventually run out of rooms to lock them in,” Tarrant joked.

“No, it would just have given us more incentive to find the brig,” Worf corrected.

Tarrant grinned. “There is that,” he agreed.

“By my count we have now captured all but one of Kleggs men,” Worf suggested. “That individual is proving to be most… illusive.”

“Now we’re on the case, it won’t take long.”

“I admire your confidence.”

“It’s not so much confidence, as stating a fact. He cannot hide forever; especially when he doesn’t realise he needs to!”

Tarrant and Worf walked in silence for a few minutes concentrating on following the directions D’Son and Portman had given them. Federation Troopers usually worked in pairs, so Phillips would not have been far away when Yarrow had taken the Starfleet security team by surprise.

It was difficult to navigate around the _Liberator_, every corridor contained the same hexagonal shaped walls lined by oblong light panels, and each junction they reached had either three or six possible directions too and from it. However as they were about to turn left down another unmarked corridor, which would eventually lead this time to the main cargo bay, Wolf fleeting caught sight of a reflection in a panel from the junction up ahead.

The reflection had been dressed entirely in black, with no colour showing, meaning it had to be the lone Trooper Phillips, rather than Towson whose tunic was gold denoting Starfleet Security.

Quietly he motioned to Tarrant that they had found the Trooper.

“Righto, leave this one to me,” Tarrant grinned and stepped into the middle of the corridor. “Phillips, Klegg has been looking for you Yarrow found two more intruders and wants you to help him interrogate them. You’re to come with me and be quick smart about it, it’s easy to get lost in this ship.”

“Yes sir,” Phillips agreed easily enough, not having the slightest bit of suspicion about Captain Tarrant until he’d been hit on the head by the back of Tarrant’s gun and knocked unconscious.

“It’s a pity, more difficult to manoeuvre them this way, but it does save unnecessary chatter,” Tarrant suggested.

Worf nodded in agreement, pressing open the nearest door to see what the room contained. “This should do. Some kind of storage facility,” he suggested, looking round at the crates and barrels stacked neatly towards the right hand side of the room. “As long as we secure him far enough away from anything he might find to aid any escape attempt, it should be fine.”

“I agree with that.” Tarrant said with a nod, helping to move Philips until he was sitting up against a vertical metal conduit that spanned the full height of the room, running in from the floor and disappearing into the ceiling. Painted bright red, it was nearly a metre wide, with a dozen or so welded rivets on each of its joints. “This should do.”

“I concur.” Worf agreed. “We should get back to the bridge, when we’ve finished here.”

“You don’t want to explore further and find the ships lock-up room?”

“Not at this time, I believe we have been effective enough already.”

Securing the still unconscious man to the metal pipework didn’t take Worf and Tarrant very long at all. In a matter of minutes, they had left the room, welded the lock, and were making their way back to the flight deck, when they both felt the Liberator quickly decelerate.

The orangey yellow fish shaped spacecraft, that resembled a rather weathered and beaten metallic goldfish had landed on the planet’s surface some twenty minutes ago, having picked up the life pods distress beacon. However, a sand storm blowing across the open plain of wilderness had kept the crew from venturing out to aid the life pod’s occupant, almost certainly saving their life. For the ship was registered to the Chenga Medic Corps, and rather like the now extinct Earth bird the vulture they were scavengers; preying on victims of both natural and unnatural disasters. They would come to the aid and rescue of the injured, dying and those in distress, long enough to transport home to their planet, where they would be sedated, euthanized, then dismembered with their body parts, tissue and organs sold to the highest bidder.

Cally had managed to find the strength and energy to crawl away from her burning craft, and lay slumped and unconscious in the shadow of an odd shaped rock. The rock had offered her some protection from the sun, but it wasn’t much good in a sand storm. The sand chaffed her already blistered skin as it swirled around her until she lay half-buried in the silica quartz.

“The captain says the sand storm should dissipate in another couple of minutes, so prepare to collect the survivor,” the ships co-pilot instructed the team of medics. “He says this is the last one, we can now return to base.”

“Can’t say I’m not glad, mind you we’ve picked up 63 this time around, a fine haul, enough to buy me some R & R at any rate.”

Tarrant and Worf had retraced their steps quickly, only getting lost a couple of times, not making it to the _Liberator’s_ flight deck, but having reached the ship’s transporter room in time for them to see Zen operate the teleport controls remotely. Zen beamed Cally up from the planet below, just as the Chenga medical team reached her and had started to dig her free.

Cally arrived unconscious and in a heap of sand, spilling out over the floor.

Both Tarrant and Worf rushed to her side.

“I could be wrong, but I think she needs a doctor,” Tarrant said, crouching down by the Auron’s side. “I only have basic first aid training, what about you?”

“Standard first aid training is a requirement of all Officers,” Worf said seriously. “I do not believe I have encountered this ships medical facility on my journeys aboard this ship. Have you?”

“No, but surely their must be one. It’s possible one of your security team may have found it though.”

“Good thinking, I will go and ask them.”

Good, but hurry.”

Beverly Crusher stood just outside ICU, out of site from the room’s sole occupant, silently watching him; observing his behaviour.

The _not Human_, Human had been awake and fully conscious for the past thirty-two minutes. He was largely stable medically speaking, though his ox-sats were down, a lot lower than the doctor was really happy with, meaning he still has some lingering breathing issues. It was also clear he was in pain, if the bio-stat monitors were anything to go by. It was curious he hadn’t called out for help; but he’d not made a sound, other than a couple of rather soft grunts.

Beverly regarded her guest curiously, watching as appeared to silently explore and examine every inch of the room around him, without leaving his bed, or doing more than attempt to sit up slightly higher for a clearer view. His change of position had happened only after he’d made a consolidated effort to move each of his arms and legs in turn, slowly and with obvious discomfort. It had been equally obvious that he was expecting to find himself restrained.

Surprise has been fleetingly written across his gaunt features, and displayed through the bio-stat above him, when he found that it wasn’t the case. It had led him cautiously to examine the couple of IV’s attached to his right arm and then the monitors above him. Beverly had seem him quickly understand the correlation between what he was feeling and the display.

Lastly, she had watched him hungrily gaze about him, surprisingly paying little attention to the obvious exits in favour of the medical equipment, display panels, and computer interfaces in view, before she decided to make an entrance, walking towards Avon’s side carrying a small tray containing water, soup and a datapadd.

Kerr Avon regarded Dr Crusher thoughtfully as she approached him. His headache persisted, as did the various other aches and pains he’d woken up with, but he had chosen to ignore them. Instead, he had used the time he was given since he’d awoken quite suddenly, to gather as much information as he could about where he was being held.

He had quickly disregarded being held by the same alien creatures as he’d seen on Star One. At Star One the aliens had needed to assume human form both to pass undetected by the members of the crew not yet killed and replaced, and because they needed a bipedal form to be about to work the computers and instruments at the top secret base.

Here he was in the ‘alien’s natural habitat. There would have been no need for them to camouflage themselves since it was obvious he was in no fit state to attempt to escape. Further all the aliens he’d seen in the battle with the Andromedans, had largely not even looked remotely human yet the computer equipment and monitors he could see were seemingly designed for a natural bipedal form, or a humanoid, to operate. However, most damningly of all, the controls were written in slightly old Federation Standard English.

That was where a slight oxymoron had occurred however. The ship he was on and the tech he could see around him was incredibly advanced; it far surpassed anything he’d seen before, even taking into account the _Liberator._ Yet the language was something at his grandparents parents might have used.

“Hello again,” Beverly said to Avon, offering him a cautious smile. “You’re sitting up, that’s a good sign. How are you feeling now?”

“You tell me. I am surprised the monitors above me have not already given you an accurate diagnosis?” Avon responded cautiously. It was always a risk letting someone know you knew more than they thought you did, but he was willing to pay what he was sure would be the price for now. He needed a greater insight on where he was and who had rescued him.

Crushers smile grew far more genuine and amused. “Well certainly the monitors give me an insight to your homeostasis," she agreed. “But they don’t tell me how you are actually feeling.”

Avon smiled wolfishly. “Ah, such a pity,” he suggested, with a slight shrug which he stopped half way when it pulled on his shoulder injury.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, you’ve broken and dislocated your scapula, it’s going to take a week or so to fully heal, though in a day, or so you’ll get most of the function back. Now I do understand if you don’t want to tell me how you’re feeling,” Crusher continued. “But as your Doctor, the more I know about your injuries the better I can help you. In the meantime, why don’t we talk about something else? You must be hungry and thirsty by now, so I’ve brought you some water and clear soup. If you’re ok with them, we can try you on something a bit more solid a little later, and give you something stronger by way of pain relief.”

Avon looked at the soup and back at Beverley.

“Are you going to tell me you don’t want it either, and you’re not hungry?” Crusher asked curiously.

Avon had been about to do just that. He had never made a good patient, preferring to disregard any injuries or illnesses and simply plough through them. Instead, he picked up the plastic spoon from the tray, and after a minute’s hesitation, tapped it against the datapadd.

“This?” Crusher asked picking up the handheld.

Avon simply gave Crusher a look, his dark eyes burning.

“It’s called a data padd. A type of handheld computer; depending on the make, model, and function it can perform a variety of tasks. This one can access the ships library, news and entertainment facilities. Since you’re going to be laid up for a few days, I thought you might be bored.”

Trying not to show just how interested he was in the device, Avon reached for it.

“You need to eat first,” Crusher said firmly.

Giving Beverly one of his best insolent looks that so infuriated Blake, Avon took a mouthful of soup then held out his hand.

“I want to see you’ve finished it when I come back.” Crusher said, handing over the data padd regardless.

Avon’s world narrowed immediately to focus on the new piece of tech in his hands. Anything else Crusher might have said to him lost.


	6. Chapter 6

“_Who are you?_” Lieutenant D’Son heard the question inside his head, as he watched the woman he’d been treating slowly wake up then open her eyes.

“My name is Lieutenant D’Son. I’m a trained field medic. I’ve been looking after you,” he said aloud in response to the question, noting the woman hadn’t asked where she was.

Cally looked up at the unfamiliar face in the _Liberator’s _sickbay and realised she hadn’t a clue how she’d got there. The last thing she could clearly remember was smoke everywhere from the crash landing of the escape pod. “_Who’s in charge?_” she thought to the Lieutenant again.

“Of me? Or this ship? Can you talk out loud?” D’Son said calmly, not in the slightest phased by having a telepath talking inside his head. Whilst not exactly common in the Federation, they were not uncommon either; just another different type of being that made up the universe. The Federation embraced all life forms, and as a child of Starfleet parents D’Son had grown up with many differing types of playmates as his parents duties had taken them far and wide. Cally was just a patient in need of help to him.

The man standing beside her bed surprised Cally by his apparent acceptance of her nature. She knew she made some of her _Liberator_ shipmates uneasy at times, but she sensed none of that apprehension in D’Son. “Are they not one and the same?” she queried aloud, attempting to sit up; the room swam unsteadily around her.

D’Son reached out to steady her. “No, I don’t think so,” he said without explaining further. “You however, need to take it easy. I’m a field medic, not a full doctor, and I’ve only had limited supplies to treat you with as I don’t recognise much of the equipment in here. You’re going to be all right, but it may take a few weeks for you to heal completely. Nothing was broken thankfully; I’ve treated the burns to your hands and face with synthetic skin, which won’t leave any scarring, but they may be sore for a while. You are also in shock and quite badly dehydrated so you need to increase your fluid uptake and rest for a while ok?”

Cally looked at D’Son and nodded, and the Lieutenant took his arm away from her to see if she could remain sitting upright by herself.

“I am fine,” Cally said carefully, though she didn’t quite feel it.

D’Son gave Cally a doubtful look and took the sensor out of his medical tricorder to run it over Cally once more in order to double check his original diagnosis.

“What is that?” Cally asked watching.

“This? It’s a portable medical monitor, which gives an overall diagnosis and status update on the person it’s directed towards."

“I’ve already told you, I’m fine. I was a touch dizzy at first that is all. I can not stay here, I have things I must do.”

“And they will have to wait. At least for a little while. You’ve survived a pretty rough crash landing on a planet’s surface by the looks of things. You need to rest and recover,” D’Son said patiently. “If you like, I can give you a mild sedative and a warm drink which will take the edge of things and let you sleep for a bit?”

“I do not need to sleep thank you?”

“But you do need to rest,” D’Son said firmly.

Cally regarded the Lieutenant with a mulish expression. She could sense no duplicity in him, he didn’t mean her any harm, but truly believed that he knew what was best for her, and had a duty to see it through, making sure that she did not harm herself through further action. The only way for her to get what she wanted, was for her to make him think that she would comply with his request and rest. Therefore, she changed tack completely. “Perhaps you are right?” she said laying down deliberately. “I can’t imagine what I was thinking. I’m really quite tired all of a sudden.”

D’Son smiled sympathetically. “I thought you would be; you’ve no doubt been running on adrenaline for far too long, I’ll get you that hot drink.”

“Thank you.” Cally said, deliberately making her voice sound tired, though she watched the Lieutenant closely as he ordered something from the _Liberators_ drinks dispenser and shook out a tablet from a small bottle near what was obviously a medical kit, and brought them over to her.

“There you go, a hot chocolate, and something to help you sleep,” he said holding first the pill then the drink out.

“Thank you,” Cally said carefully palming the tablet before she took hold of the drink and took a sip. It was hot chocolate. She wasn’t over keen on the beverage herself, it was kept in stock mainly for Avon, though Jenna would have the odd cup on occasion.

Knowing she would get nowhere until she feigned sleep however, Cally took a couple of small sips of the drink then started yawning. More tiny sips followed; really, the chocolate was too dry for her taste. More yawns, louder than before followed and she watched with half closed eyes as D’Son started to tidy up sickbay. She caught sight of a bundle of her green leathers in a pile on top of a table, burnt, cut and torn quite badly and realised for the first time she had to be wearing a medical smock.

Cally was not body shy, so the fact that she had been undressed caused no more than a moments thought as she deliberately continued to yawn, then turned to put the chocolate on the small table beside her and before moving to lay on her side with her back deliberately towards the door. Five long minutes later, during which she could hear faint sounds of D’Son moving around, before she heard the unmistakable hiss of the medical bays doors opening then closing a moment later.

Eyes now open in the dim light of the medical unit, Cally waited another five minutes to make sure she was really alone and sat up, putting the pill she’d palmed down next to the mostly undrunk chocolate. The room spun for a few minutes when she sat up and dangled her legs off the end of the bed. It took a little while for everything to stop spinning, before she risked attempting to stand.

She was a little unsteady on her feet, but growing stronger by the second as she moved to pick up the dressing gown, which had been left across the back of one chair. Tying the belt tightly around her waist, Cally moved to examine her clothing, noting that her small knife was still in place in her secret pocket of the jacket. She transferred it to one of the pockets in the dressing gown and made her way to the door.

Standing to one side of the door, Cally pressed the release mechanism and tensed.

The door opened but nothing else happened, no one attempted to come in.

Cautiously she poked her head out of the door. The hallway beyond was quite clear. Cally slipped from the medical bay, closing the door behind her. Her first priority was to get to Zen and find out the whereabouts of the rest of the crew. Had they made it aboard safely, only to be held as she had been? Or was she the first? And just who had boarded the _Liberator_ in their absence? Cally hadn’t recognise D’Sons uniform, but she could sense he was human in origin so not one of the Andorian invaders.

Her telepathic abilities on full alert, Cally walked silently through the decks of the _Liberator,_ her bare feet making no sound, pausing at each junction, listening hard both mentally and aloud. She felt the presence of several other beings close by, but was unable to get an accurate fix on their exact location or number, their mental presence not matching the unique signatures of her crewmates. She heard nothing, Klegg and his men having fallen silent some time ago.

Some ten minutes later, after listening intently outside one of the entrances to the flight deck and hearing nothing, Cally slipped silently into the room.

“Zen, status repot,” she whispered softly, feeling relief wash through her when lights started to play across the huge computer interface that Zen used as a focal point.

\+ I have receive direct voice communication from all of the crew except Avon. + Zen said immediately. + 12.7 hours ago, Blake reported that he was safe and well and en route for the planet Epheron. 14.82 hours ago, Jenna stated that she had suffered superficial injuries but was aboard a neutral cargo carrier in transit to the planet Morphenniel. 15.31 hours ago, Vila had said he was down on an unknown planet and lost in a wooded area. The distress beacon on your craft had been activated and having received no confirmation from you, your recovery was given maximum priority. +

“Thank you, everyone is safe then, which is a minor miracle in itself. But nothing from Avon?”

\+ There has been no direct voice contact from Avon. + Zen repeated.

Cally thought about the answer. “No direct voice contact? Are you saying you know his whereabouts?”

\+ Kerr Avon’s whereabouts are unknown. However, contact was made briefly with Orac who stated that he was badly injured but had been rescued by humans aboard an unknown spaceship. Transmission was lost when this ship was boarded. +

“By whom?”

\+ Unknown. +

“Do you know how many?”

“I think I can possibly give you that information,” a voice said from behind Cally. “Wouldn’t you agree Mr. Worf?”

“Indeed. It is good to see you up and about,” Worf said standing beside Tarrant.

Cally span on her heal, hand already reaching for her knife. “Come no closer, I will kill you both,” she stated firmly.

Tarrant held up his hands. “Take it easy. We mean you no harm.”

“It was one of my men, Lieutenant D’Son who treated your injuries.” Worf said slowly.

“Who are you?”

“Ah, that might take some explaining…”

Servalan was finally alone; which had proved to be surprisingly difficult. If Dayna or her sister Iesha, were not hanging around asking if she needed anything, then Will Riker kept popping in to check up on her. Servalan didn’t suffer fools at the best of times, and the near constant solicitousness she was experiencing was severely trying her patience, as the discomfort of the injury to her leg was proving difficult to ignore. She was trying to be nice, but it was a façade which was slowly slipping.

She had feigned sleep the last couple of times anyone had come to check up on her however and it was now late in the evening. Moving carefully, deploring the need to hold onto several objects to keep her balance, Servalan left the comfort of her room moving quietly down the first corridor she came to.

She had been unconscious when she arrived, so had been given no opportunity to explore her surroundings. She was aware that she was inside a fixed orbit station which had been grounded on the seabed a number of years ago however, as she had made a couple of banal comments about the décor of the bedroom and had been told the tale of the grounded space station. And that being the case, Servalan was banking on the fact that there would be a control room somewhere with a communications station. She needed to get word to the Federation that she needed rescuing.

The control room wasn’t that difficult to find, though part of it seemed to have been converted to a shooting range. Behind the sectioned off screens, were still functional and operating, life support and communication stations. Servalan sank gratefully into a worn plastic chair.

The communication console was old and primitive by current Federation standards; a mark 4b Standard issue com unit. Most of the lettering on and beneath the toggle switches had been rubbed away with use, but the area was still powered up and still functioning.

Servalan wasted no time, putting on the headset, she picked up the mic and flipped a couple of relay switch’s. “Open transmission for immediate relay to Federation fleet command. Message begins. Escort group nine destroyed en route to main battle zone. President Servalan forced down on planet Sarran. Rescue is now your first priority. Repeat: rescue takes precedence over everything. Message ends. Acknowledge transmission,” she said toggling the main relay switch to hear a reply.

A loud hissing sound filled her headphones with white noise, causing her to wince and snatch them off her head.

“I repeat. This is President Servalan. Escort nine is destroyed. I am on Sarran and need an immediate pick up…”

The same hissing reached her from the headphones now on the desk.

“… Answer me, damn you, answer me!”

“I always say you can’t do better than a cup of tea,” The Doctor suggested, holding his mug of tea, sitting on one of the steps leading up to the main console area, his feet dangling over the edge, parts of the disabled Tardis all around him on the floor below.

Vila also holding his second cup of tea in a row, also sitting on one of the steps, opened his mouth to say that Soma or any alcohol was better in his opinion, but then thought better of it. Despite Donna giving him a couple of pain killing pills which had left him reeling from the side-effects, he’d woken up after being jumped over by Donna, just before Troi entered the Tardis, none the worse for wear. His head was regrettably clear, the pain in his arm mostly gone, but Vila was feeling quite morose. He was no closer to going home, and no closer to finding out why he was where he was, wherever that was anyway.

Deana sitting beside the Doctor smiled and gestured toward her own drink. “You can’t go far wrong,” she agreed, “soothing, familiar, and calming.”

It had taken the three of them some time to reach that spot. The loss of Donna and the appearance of Troi had shaken the Doctor badly. The Tardis was shielded from all sorts of things, and should be virtually impossible to detect or scan for most of the time, especially when she was in flight. She was heavily shielded and had all sorts of force walls and anti intruder devices to prevent the sequence of events the Doctor was now experiencing from happening.

The Tardis had been drifting through the Time Vortex in null space while the Doctor and Donna had treated themselves to a rare forty-eight hours down time, after their adventures on Triaxe. They’d also needed to dry out thoroughly since Triaxe oceans covered nearly 82% of the planet surface, and they’d spent what seemed like eternity wading, sloshing, or swimming through, in and under it. Donna had washed her hair umpteen times to get rid of the salt in it, which is why the Doctor had offered to take her to dinner, as a way to pacify her somewhat.

Vila’s appearance had therefore been impossible – the Tardis didn’t usually leave the Time Vortex, fly herself to an unknown planet, park herself, and then let in a complete stranger. Not normally at any rate and certainly not without the occupants being aware of the journey or knowing something was wrong. For her to then dematerialise from that planet only to rematerialise somewhere else and let in another unauthorised person, whilst simultaneously loosing one of her regular crew was unheard of.

The Doctor had been shocked and angry at the loss of Donna and the appearance of Troi. He had simply stared at her for several minutes before shouting “No,” many times over, throwing many switches and trying to cajole the Tardis into returning to wherever it was she’d been before Troi had arrived.

It wasn’t until he’d caught sight of Troi staggering back and holding onto one of the Coral struts for support, with a concerned Vila at her side, shooting him a half scared, half-hostile look, that he’d pulled himself together, and realised that Deana Troi was a powerful empath, and he was projecting his mental distress loudly and too freely. It had been a long time since he’d encountered someone as sensitive to telepathy as she was; and it pulled him up short.

Drawing a long drawn out breath, the Doctor brought up his mental shields and closed down his thoughts. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” he admitted quietly. “I can be such a dunderhead sometimes. Where are my manners? Quite a lot of things have happened today that are unexpected. The unexpected usually happens to me quite a lot, so you’d think I’d be used to it by now but well… not to today it seams… no doubt that’s why it’s called the unexpected in the first place of course. First Vila here turns up, then you and now my assistant has gone missing … but really I should know better and... “

With both Troi and Vila staring at him as if he’d suddenly grown a second head, the Doctor had stopped talking and shut his mouth with an audible snap. “Er right, sorry. Come in, please, just mind the mess… I’m having something of an off day…,” he said at a more normal rate of speech, as he walked down the couple of steps towards the coral strut where Troi and Vila were still standing.

“Hello, I’m the Doctor,” he said offering Troi a hand, while he discreetly palmed his sonic with his other.

Troi looked at the Doctor and then at the thing he was waving carefully around him. “Councillor Deanna Troi,” she offered holding his hand only briefly, before letting it go quite quickly. “You’re a telepath,” she said immediately.

The Doctor nodded. “Yes,”

Vila looked alarmed. “A telepath? You mean you can read minds?”

“Only when I want to,” The Doctor admitted truthfully.

“And do you want to? Now I mean?”

The Doctor turned to look at Vila. “Why, is there something you think I should know?” he queried.

Vila turned pale. “No, why would you think that?”

Deanna looked from the Doctor to Vila, and relaxed a bit. She could feel that the Doctor was only teasing the other man. “You can relax Vila was it? I think you’re being teased.”

Vila looked from the Doctor to Deanna. “I am? How can you be sure?”

Even with his mental shields raised, the Doctor could feel Troi’s amusement. “Because otherwise I’d ask you to empty your pockets and return the things you’ve been quietly collecting since you’ve been here; including my jelly babies. Besides which the Councillor is an empath remember, she’ll be able to feel you doing wrong!”

Vila looked horror struck. “I need a drink!” he muttered.

The Doctor grinned. “Now, that’s an idea. Then we can try to work out why we’re all here, and what has brought us together.”

Vila had cheered up at the thought; until the Doctor had led them into a homely kitchen area not far from the main console room and put the kettle on. “Can’t go far wrong with a lovely cuppa,” he announced fetching three mugs from a cupboard, one covered with a pattern of dancing girls’ legs, which he quickly put back in favour of a plain one. “Sorry about that one of Captain Jacks.”

“So, let me get this straight. You’re a civilian who just happens to travel with this… super-being, this Timelord who can somehow travel in both time and space, yet you have absolutely no idea how you come to be on the _Enterprise_, on my ship?” Picard said slowly to Donna.

Donna had not been taken to the brig; rather she had been escorted down to sickbay, to be interviewed by the Captain whose patience was wearing somewhat thin. Donna was currently sitting on a biobed next to the Beverley’s office, trying to ignore Crusher who was waving a scanner around her.

“Do you have to do that?” Donna said to the doctor. “You’re as bad as him, always waving gadgets around all over the place, gabbling on about timey-wimy, wibbly wobbly stuff!”

“Sorry, I’m almost done.” Beverly tried to soothe.

“Timy-wimy what?” Picard frowned.

“Honestly, I haven’t got a clue, sometimes the things he comes up with don’t even make sense when you know what he’s talking about.”

“Well, what about the gadgets he makes then?” Picard asked. “What do they do?”

“I dunno, all sorts of stuff. He once built a reticular vector gauge thingy, it had glass in it and ran on clockwork, like them toy mouse things. Then there was the etheric beam locator, good for locating, well etheric beams, oh and I think ions too. Of course he mainly just uses his sonic screwdriver,” Donna said impatiently. “That seems to work on most things, it pick locks, detects radiation, amplifies soundwaves, act as a GPS signal, disarms robots and unsurprisingly can even undo and do up screws.”

Captain Picard wasn’t sure if he was being had or not. A lot of what Donna was saying didn’t seem to make much sense, never mind it being one of The Doctor’s faults. “Yet you claim he’s not dangerous?” he pressed feeling somewhat at a disadvantage.

“Since when did tightening screws become dangerous? The Doctor is a Timelord, not some kind of warlord that you’re making him out to be.”

“Is he not? You’ve been kind enough to describe some of your… adventures with this being. Do they seem the actions of someone who has no kind of agenda to you?

“Five of this ships crew are missing, including my First officer and my Chief of Security. We don’t know where they are, or why they’ve gone, or where they’ve been taken. I have an unknown guest in ITU who appears to have amnesia, this ship is suffering from a variety of electrical malfunctions, and then you appear. 

“Out of no where you apparently walk onto the bridge of my ship from a turbolift. Civilians and NCO’s do not have access to the bridge without special permission from the ships caption, and aboard this ship, that means me., so forgive me if I appear somewhat sceptical.”

Crusher finished her examination and put the scanner back in it’s holder. “Same as before, with a few interesting differences, Captain.” She reported.

Picard frowned.

Donna sighed. “I get it,” she said carefully.

“Get what?”

“Ok then, I can understand where you are coming from, but I promise you, I’m not a threat or anything. One moment I was talking to the Doctor, then the Tardis sort of shuddered and I dropped the lightbulb I was holding so I ran after it, then leant against the Tardis doors when I went to pick the damn thing up, the door opened outwards instead of inwards and I ended up here. I just want to go home.”

“Which is where?”

“Earth, Chiswick, number 47 on the corner of Mallard Street, just down a bit off Rydale Street, London.”

“I’ve heard of none of those, and I know London fairly well, having been stationed in the Marble Arch field office as a 3rd year cadet on assignment to personnel.”

“Ms Noble is not from this Universe either,” Crusher said pointedly.

“Come again?” Donna interjected.

Beverly looked at Picard before she continued, and having received a small nod went on. “The man we rescued from a escape pod reads as human to our ships scanners, but possibly as a human from a different universe. He’s quantum signature, which should be a constant through every piece of matter, living or inert in any universe is off by just a fraction 0.57795 to be exact; which means he can not possibly originate from here.

“You are showing the same at a quantum level. You don’t match this universe, yet you don’t match his either,” Beverly said carefully.

“They’re the same, but from different universes. Both of them?” Picard was astonished.

“Yes it appears so.” Beverly confirmed.

“So, am I sick or something? Am I going to die, just by being here?” Donna demanded.

“I can’t be absolutely certain of course, but I can find no effects of cell degeneration, so it’s likely that you will probably fine, in the short term at least.”

“So you don’t know,” Donna translated.

“Not exactly, no.” Beverly agreed.

“Well, isn’t that just peachy. I don’t suppose you’ll let me meet this other chap will you?”

“It wouldn’t be my first idea,” Picard agreed.

“Why, what are we going to do? Hatch a conspiracy theory across two different universes? How is that even going to work? What do we do pick up a telephone and dial an international galaxy number?”

“I have no idea what any of those things are, or what you’re talking about,” Picard admitted.

“Quelle surprise!”

Picard, Donna and Crusher looked at each other. Donna thinking hard. “I have a question,” she said finally.

“Go ahead,” Picard replied cautiously.

“You claim I appeared out of no where yes?”

“That is indeed what happened, your point being?”

“This man, the one you rescued, did you see where his escape pod came from? Was there an accident in space or something? Did he and you bump ships causing him to bail out? Or did he appear…”

“…out of no where,” Picard finished for Donna. “Yes, you’re right. We’d been tracking an anomaly for a few hours, and then we caught sight of his escape pod. Thank you Ms Noble for your excellent observation. You stay here with Dr Crusher. Picard to Commander Data, meet me in my Ready Room, at your convenience please…”

“Ahhhh nothing beats a good cuppa, you can go a long way on one,” The Doctor said reflectively. “Although why it’s relaxing I’ve never quite fathomed since caffeine is a stimulant,” The Doctor stated taking a mouthful of his drink.

“Tea is a stimulant?” Vila queried, taking a huge slurp of his own drink. “I never knew that. Not that many people where I come drink tea; it’s prohibitively expensive, and only for the Alphas unless you manage to er… appropriate some in due course... if you know what I mean?”

“Vila!” Deanna said with a slight smile pretending to be shocked. The more time she spent with him, the more she liked him. “Really?”

Vila rubbed the back of his neck, he didn’t want to lie outright to Deana and the Doctor, but he wasn’t used to being around decent people who weren’t also pickpockets, tricksters, rebels, and mercenaries. “I er, that is I mean to say… I’m not quite sure what it was now… it could have been tea… or cola, or minar… or just plain mu...”

“Relax Vila; I was only teasing you.”

“Were you? Oh good!” Vila said doubtfully.

“That’s quite enough on the subject of tea. We have more problems to cope with, and a number of highly interesting questions. The first of which is why are we here? Why us? What have the three of us got in common, why and what are supposed to do with it?” The Doctor suggested thoughtfully staring into his mug. 

“How do you mean?” asked Vila.

“What the Doctor is trying to say,” Deanna added. “Is something or someone seems to have gone to a lot of trouble to bring you and I here together with the Doctor. There has to be a design to it somewhere, some purpose.”

“Like a plot you mean.”

“Exactly,” the Doctor grinned. “So what have we got; one human, one half human, half Betazoid and one Time lord. There is no common ground there. We’re each from a different time and apparently different universe, although for me, I’m not quite so limited to the when and where as the two of you.

“The only thing we seem to have in common is the knowledge of the planetary system around Earth or Sol 3” Troi offered slowly.

“Yes,” the Doctor agreed. “However there doesn’t seem to be anything else in common. One of you has just finished fighting a war with …”

“A hoard of hairy aliens,” Vila interrupted. “Though some of them were green and slimy too…”

“What were they called?”

“Eh?”

“Do you have a name for them? The aliens, you never know it might be important.”

“Besides hairy aliens? No, it’s difficult to have a chat with someone when they’re trying to blow their head’s off.” Vila retorted

The Doctor and Troi thought for a couple of minutes.

Troi spoke first. “Well if you got a good look at them that could have helped. I only know of one or two races which match some of the parameters of your description.

“The Orions are green, and do have hair, but they are humanoid. In their natural form the Kelvans are also green and at least twice the size of full grown Klingon like Lt Commander Worf, so a couple of metres tall, which would be large, but they’re not hairy…they appear to be mostly made up of dozens of tentacle type limbs, which they can move independently although…”

Vila shivered and took another sip of tea to cover his nerves.

“…when around humans, they do have the ability to take on human form. Does that sound like them?”

“Nope, not at all. These were green and scaly, hairy and sort of pulsated a bit. ”

“Then we have the Mizarians, they’re green and humanoid, but they’re not very hairy and are extreme pacifists.”

Vila shook his head. “No, these were a blood thirsty lot, I can promise you that.”

“Ok, well the Selay are green, they’re carnivorous humanoids and not hairy, but have been peacefully settle on their planet for many years now. Which only really leaves the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids of Xindi are six different species who are all extremely aggressive, they’re green and some have antenna and scales. They don’t like humans very much, and come from what we know as the Delphic Expanse an not Andromeda, but they’re not hairy.”

“Hairy,” Vila squeaked, knowing he would be having nightmares for years about different kinds of green aliens.

“Well Doctor, what about you?” Deanna suggested at a lost.

“I’ve met hundreds, thousands of different life forms in my time,” the Doctor said scratching the back of his head. “And half of them could be called ‘hairy.’ So what could they be? The Aggedors from Peladon are both green and hairy… well furry and have many legs. They can also be pregnant for half a century, and can be quite tetchy around mating season. There is also the Racnoss, spider like creatures that are hairy with many legs, however they’re red and are now thankfully extinct, unless you can time travel, so I suppose they could should be discounted… Then there’s the Wirrn, green with lots of legs but no fur. The Salostopus are humanoid, they’re a bit blobby and jelly-like so they do pulsate a bit I suppose… Or the Gholos from Golos. They’re a gestalt, but also shapeshifters and mostly gaseous, the Linitan of Vysp and the Harmony and Redemption, also fit into the amorphous category. Planktus look like scaly bears… Are you sure you didn’t get a really good look at them?”

“Doctor, I don’t think you’re helping much,” Deanna pointed out for Vila was looking paler than ever and now green about the gills himself.

The Doctor looked at Vila and raised an eyebrow. “Right then, green hairy aliens are off the list.. no help there then, moving swiftly on. One of you was in a war, and the other had just rescued an unknown man in an escape pod about to crash land on a planet after encountering an anomaly in space…”

“Avon?”

“Sorry what?”

“The escape pod, I put him in it.”

Deanna and the Doctor exchanged a look.

“The _Liberator_, our ship was damaged and needed time to repair himself, so we all had to evacuate in life pods. Avon was hit on the head by a bit of the ceiling falling on him, so I put him in an escape pod and set him free. Was his escape pod long and silver?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t on the Bridge when we first encountered the capsule,” Deanna replied. “He’s just regained consciousness when I ended up here. I was on my way to visit him. He was awake, but not saying very much.”

“Yep, sounds like Avon,” Vila agreed. “Was Orac with him?”

“What’s Orac?”

“A snarky computer.”

“Not to my knowledge, no.”

“So no help there either. What can you tell us about the anomaly?”

Orac was irritated. There was no other polite word for it. It was frustrated and annoyed/ irked beyond belief that it had been unable to gain either control of or full access to the _Enterprise_. Orac was able to communicate, interface, draw information and control any computer or electrical device containing a Tarriel Cell.

Much to Orac’s chagrin the_ Enterprise’s_ computers did not run on even a single Tarriel Cell. Nor was there a single computer core which it could link to. The _Enterprise_ had 3 separate and distinct computer cores each linked by a system of triple redundancy high tensile optical data network cables (ODN’s). These computers were then accessible through the optical data net service to hundreds of different portals, desktop terminals, and data padds – the fibre optic cables many, many kilometres long, like the veins in a humanoid body.

Orac had been searching for a way to communicate, with the _Enterprise’s_ systems almost from the moment it had teleported aboard the Galaxy class Starship and could feel the hum of high frequency electrical power all around it. It have found it’s weakest link so far was the small amount of energy discharge present through the subspace communication network.

The communication side of the network was still largely dark to Orac, at least at subspace speeds, however local traffic and mundane routine requests for the basic ships operation were becoming easier to run an interference on, hence all the electrical glitches the ship were currently suffering from. It could also hear the more local intraship communications, and had started to reach out use the carrier frequency on data padds within an hour or so.

It was in that manner that Orac was able to access the _Enterprises _huge online library and learn about the universe the ship had come from along with the tenants and belief system of their Federation.

The _Winterbourne_ had landed on Dragus Three, under helpful cloud cover in the lea of a quarry some two and a half km from their target area. The rebels slipped through the night carefully, making little sound, using infrared goggles to negate the use of their portable lights.

There rebels were planning four separate simultaneous incursions on the Federation base. Avalon was co-ordinating Team 1, Docholli Team 2, Zeta Team 3 and Fargus Team 4. The base guards changed shifts at 22.15, the rebels planned to hit roughly ten minutes before hand, when the outgoing guards were at their most lax, and their replacements would not be quite ready.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all very well mixing up the likes of Blake, Avon, Picard, Riker, the Doctor and Donna, but it's no fun if there isn't a little trouble added to the mix. So enter the baddies... ...well some of them anyway...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some mention of semi graphic scenes of violence that are more suitable for a mature audience.

At much slower rate than Orac, Avon was also learning a great deal about the _Enterprise_ and the Federation which had built it. Although Avon lacked Orac’s speed, and usual ability to connect to and effortlessly interface with, other computers, he had one singular advantage over Orac, he could physically touch and manipulate the electronics he was interested in, repairing, sabotaging or even modifying them. Such as now, with the padd he’d been given. Of course he was hampered somewhat by his injured left shoulder which was in a sling, and the fact that his only tool was a plastic spoon.

Avon was adaptable however, and so while he had kept the padd’s user interface panel in working order, quite a lot of its components and isolinear chips lay scattered in and around the covers of his bed. Avon’s sole objective at that moment in time was to regain communication with either Orac or Zen. He needed to know the whereabouts and status of the_ Liberator_ and the ships crew.

What he had discovered so far, both from the _Enterprises_ library and physical examination of the padd, was that the primary form of electromagnetic communication the padd used was subspace, at a far higher, tighter and cleaner bandwidth than he had ever seen before. In Avon’s Federation only the newest communication stations and ships had started to use subspace to transmit data rather than using normal SOL equipment, as subspace communication permitted the sending of data across interstellar distances far faster than the speed of light. 

Subspace communication had just started to be rolled out in the newest and fastest Pursuit Ships when Star One had been destroyed. However the bandwidth on which they operated, as the captured cipher machine taken from Centero had shown been much lower at n4sid, rather than the 2D PML oscillating boundaries Avon suspected he was seeing now.

The isolinear chips, intricacies of the solid state unknown nano crystals and Doppler effect of the unrecognised sarium krellide power cells, had quickly shown Avon that he was looking at something which was lightyears ahead of its time; which considering he was used to working on Zen was truly either frightening or exhilarating dependant on ones view point.

Anyone watching Avon, would have thought that his apparent haphazard hacking of the padd were the result of a disturbed mind, however the computer tech was working steadily and systematically with his one goal fixed firmly in mind. He knew the frequencies on which Orac and Zen transmitted; he just needed to find a way to extrapolate and build them from the equipment he had at hand.

“Well, I must say, you don’t look much like an alien,” a voice said from his doorway.

Avon barely glanced in the direction of the voice, giving no sign that he had heard it.

“They say we have a different quantum signature to this part of the galaxy,” the same voice tried again.

At that, Avon did look up. A different quantum signature would make a difference to the calculations he was working on. What he saw was a woman in a mid length flared black and white polka dot dress. “You don’t look much like a doctor,” he challenged.

Donna laughed. “I’m not. But you don’t look much like an alien, but then to be fair, neither does the Doctor,” Donna Noble said strolling into the room.

“The Doctor? She looked rather ordinary to me.”

“Oh, not her silly, my friend the Doctor.”

Avon’s interest in Donna faded completely, and he reminded himself that he was in a hospital after all, so the woman was probably mad. “As you can see, I am rather busy,” Avon said shortly, bending his head over the padd once more, to prise free a small bit of electrical circuit.

Not put off in the slightest by Avon’s manner, Donna walked over to his bedside and peered at the mess Avon had made of the padd. “You’ve done all that with a plastic spoon?” she asked, noting the tool he was using.

“Your point?”

“How well could you work if you had say… one of these?” Donna said innocently holding out a small flatbed screwdriver.

Having been left alone by Beverly after she was called to see to an emergency in cargo bay 12 where the power had failed on an antigrav unit; the containers it had been carrying spilling onto the unsuspecting crewman, Donna had sat where she’d been sitting for a couple of minutes, then getting bored, decided to look round the room. She had taken in the biobeds, and opened draws containing lots of medical stuff which she had no names for, given no more than a cursory glance to the computers that were either darkened down, on standby, or else displaying information that she was unfamiliar with. 

She could feel the hum of the spaceships vast power beneath her feet, and knew she would have treated the whole experience as another adventure if the Doctor had been with her. He would have looked at everything and understood what it was for and could have explained it all to her. By herself it was boring. Metaphorically kicking her heels, Donna had wondered round the part of sickbay she were in, idly picking up a couple of small hand held instruments, tweezers, explorer tools and a couple of electronic scalpels, here and there, justifying her actions by the knowledge that just because she didn’t know if they would become useful or not down the line, didn’t mean she shouldn’t borrow them now.

Dr Crusher had yet to return when Donna decided to go for a nose about further afield and see if she could find the other ‘alien’ the ships rather stern captain kept referring to.

It hadn’t been difficult to locate him, since he was the only one in isolation.

Sweetly, she held out the instrument she took as a flatbed screwdriver to Avon. “Does this interest you at all?”

Avon looked at Donna, making no move to take the tool. “What is it you expect in return?”

“Oh, now, I don’t know. Let me see, I have a friend I was travelling with; we’ve been separated and I need to get a message to him to let him know I’m here so he can come and rescue me.”

Avon looked at Donner suspiciously. Communication with his ship and crew were his goals too. “Why should I believe you?”

Donna huffed, and pointed down at her dress complete with high heals, which had hampered her attempt to catch the Doctor’s red lightbulb of doom, or something along those lines. “Do I look as if I work here? Really, dressed like this?”

Avon looked at Donna’s dress once more. “You have a point,” he conceded. “For the moment at least. It might be quicker if we work together.”

Donna held out her hand.

Avon looked at it perplexed.

“I’m Donna, Donna Noble,” she said firmly. “You’re supposed to shake on it.”

“It’s better you don’t know who I am,” Avon said not taking the hand, just looking at it.

Donna frowned. “Ok then Mr Nobody, how are we going to make this work? What do you need me to do? Only lets be quick about it, I’m nor sure how much time I’ll have before someone comes looking for me.”

“What is the quantum signature variance you mentioned?” Avon said immediately.

“O.57795.”

“Are you sure?”

“Super temp here,” Donna quipped.

Avon just continued to stare at her his dark eyes unblinking, Donna’s words had meant nothing to him.

Donna sighed. “Honestly, you men. You’re so uptight in this universe. Yes I’m sure, Mr Nobody, let’s get on shall we?”

Breath fogging in the dampening evening air as a mist and light rain moved in, Roj Blake resisted the temptation to wipe at his infrared goggles, where they were misting up from the warm air of his breath. He was carefully following Deva’s shadow as they moved between dense undergrowth and uneven boggy terrain as their team progressed away from the quarry site; steadily towards their target. 

The plan was simple. All four of the teams put together by Avalon, were to converge on the mutoid factory and raise as much of it as they could to the ground as quickly as possible. Team’s one and two would then move on to the communications hub nearby and destroy that as well, while Team three would move on to the blood bank and plant the virus. Team four would be leaving Dragus Three quite quickly after the initial assult and heading onto Racston, Avalon’s base of command in the hills of Zintar.

Team one, lead by Avalon were due to strike at the south east side guard tower, showing on the bottom left of the map they’d all been given. That part of the factory compound held the bionic reconstruction facilities, wards for the newly converted mutoids, and the medical offices. The mutoid base was laid out like a figure of eight, with the two secure inner courtyards used as exercise yards – one where the prisoners and those who have ‘volunteered’ for the programme exercised while they waited to be converted, the other also housing the radio antenna, was used as a drill yard for the newly converted mutoids. 

Team twos targets led by Docholli was the north west gate guard house, which stood adjoined to the main electrical and mechanical storage facility. They were then to progress to take out the centre of the centre, where there were operating suites. Team three, led by Zeta were due to take out the north east side of the compound and it’s guard tower, then move on to the imagining facilities as well as the workshops where the components needed to turn a human into a mutoid were built and stored. Which left team four lea by Fargus to take out the south west side, where the prisoners were held. Their instructions were different to the rest of the teams, for while the building was to be destroyed as much as possible along with it’s facilities, it was Avalon’s intention to rescue as many as the prisoners and ‘volunteers’ as she could and get them safely off planet, that was team fours mission.

Each team leader called in softly once they within sight of their target, Docholli, Blake an Deva lining up three abreast under a scant bush some 60 odd metres away from the electrified chain link surrounding the facility.

Zeta’s team had been tasked with sending a pulsed phase EMP to disrupt the power supply to the fence. It had to be timed just right, too soon, and the loss of electrical current might be noticed; too late, and some of the rebels could get seriously injured or die. 

Blake could feel water seeping through the fabric of his jacket as he lay on the earth waiting to get underway. Teams one, two and three had already reported in, with team four lagging a bit behind. But that could be forgiven just a tiny bit since team fours designated landing spot had been chosen with great care, and needed a first class pilot to bring the larger 450 ton Jaeger 7 space bus in under the radar and land just half a click away from the facility.

Suddenly Blake’s team were blinded by a bright white light as a space vehicle came into view, stirring up the leaves and other debris around them. Docholli swore softly as it flew past them a few moments later and disappeared over the other side of the factory.

“Damn pilot, what on earth do they think they were doing?

“Do you think they saw us?

“Team two, this is team one leader, quiet down.”

Laying hidden beneath a collection of old service vehicles and a couple of single person flyers, team three watched the unknown spaceship land; straight down, vertically, almost on top of them. Wispy plums of air and escaping gas hissed softly creating a semi fog of steam as the spaceships flight systems were shut down.

No more than 25 metres away from the spaceship, half blinded and deafened by its approach and landing, team three watched as a square hatchway opened and a black clad figure emerged.

At first glance the figure looked like an unhelmeted Federation trooper; but then they turned their head and the resemblance stopped as a green laser sight had been implanted right next to a sophisticated ocular implant where the figures right eye should have been. The laser swept the ground in front of team three, stopping just short of their hiding place as the figures right arm, which had been extended and grafted onto a heavy disrupter, was lifted and followed the same line of sight. The laser found the North East guard tower in the next instance and with a low whine the disruptor blew it to pieces, lighting up the night sky with a burst of orange flame. 

“Team three to team leader, they’re definitely not Federation. The tech they’re using is far in advance of anything I’ve ever seen, but they don’t look like them aliens either. They’re humanoid and their space ship… it’s shaped just like a cube. In fact I…”

The comm went dead as Zeta’s hiding place, along with the rest of team three was blown to pieces, the black clad figure having zeroed in on Zeta’s voice. Seconds later the whole pile of metal which had been service vehicles and flyers went up with a whump as the remnants of fuel ignited, casting a second eerie glow around the whole area.

There was a shocked silence among the rebels. Everyone knew the risks they were taking. Every mission risked their lives; but somehow no one ever expected it to happen on their watch.

Blake swore and thumped the earth in frustration, just as the shrill sound of the factories alarms cut through the night and the remaining guard towers switched on their perimeter and search lights.

Blinding blue/white light mixed with orange from the fire illuminated the area around them. The mutoid factory, built from composite steel and uniform concrete blocks, looked eerily sinister, the placement of support columns and angular windows starkly utilitarian and strangely devoid of colour, shadows chasing each other across the ground and across walls as the lights wavered and dipped searching out the enemy.

Avalon’s voice came over the com. “It’s tough, I know, but we’ve lost good people before, and tonight is not over yet. Everyone get ready. As the factory is already under attack, we can use the diversion to plant our bombs and do what we came here to do. Our objectives are the same, however if we get a chance to take out a few of the bastards as well, I won’t be too unhappy. Be ready to move on my command… “

Before Avalon had finished speaking however, a second space ship flew over the factory, twin energy beams streaking out, followed by a third explosion, which shook the earth. However the invaders had not targeted either the factory or one of the two remaining control towers, but the area on the south west of the factory, where the Jaeger 7 had been due to land.

There was a stunned silence among the rebels, as third guard tower was blasted into pieces. Beyond the wire perimeter of the factory, the rebels could see squads of soldiers running across the open ground to repel the invaders, who were marching through the torn and twisted wire into the factory.

The staccato sound of multiple energy bolt weapons being fired, was equalled by the snap of the invaders lasers.

The comm unit cracked to life once more moments later, the voice on the other end sounding out of breath, breathing heavily. “This is Fargus, the pilot and I made it out ok, but the rest… our ship has been destroyed.”

“Understood,” Avalon said quietly. “We’ll need to find another way to get the prisoners to safety then…, regroup with team two when you can. Let’s get in there, and see if we can’t help liven things up a bit.”

A scene of carnage greeted Blake, Docholli, Deva, Payton and Moss as they made it inside. They’d lost Martin to a crazed Federation trooper, one side of his helmet half hanging off along with that side of his face, shooting at anything he saw. The bodies of dead and dying Federation troopers and guards lay everywhere. Even in the few short minutes of the attack, they had been clearly out gunned. There was nothing left of the storage facility Docholli’s team had been due to take out, so they planted their devices in any room which had been left more or less intact, working their way quickly through the factory.

The sounds of energy weapons being discharged just up ahead caused Blake, Docholli an Moss to pause. They’d come to a corridor that branched both left and right a few moments ago, Deva and Payton going in one direction, and the three of them in the other.

“I think we’re close to the control room,” Moss suggested.

“That makes sense, the administrators probably decided to hold out there, it was probably shielded.” Docholli agreed.

“I’ll see if I can get closer, and see what’s going on,” Blake whispered back.

The other two men nodded.

Cautiously Blake crept forward, the sounds of weapons more sporadic now, then came the sound of voices.

“… are you…?”

“We are the Borg, resistance is futile, you will be assimilated and your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to your own,” a flat voice responded.

“And what if we don’t agree?”

“Resistance is futile…”

“Hey you,… don’t do that… don’t… you can’t….”

The glass in the window just ahead of Blake was shattered as a body was thrown though it to impact the corridor wall and land with a thud on the floor. 

The logical thing for Blake to do, would have been to retreat, instead he crept forward cautiously and worked his way up towards the broken window, so he could peer through it, just above the cill.

He saw one of the black clad humanoid invaders Zeta had identified, physically connect the extension of his arm to the main Federation database on the facility, and begin an obvious download/search through the computer system as several monitors immediately came to life, information flicking across their screens with ever increasing speed. In the far corner of the room Blake could make out two techs cowering for their lives.

Blake realised they had seen him a moment later, and quickly mime to get down and cover themselves as much as they could, as he primed one of the bombs he had with him and threw it through the window, then ran as fast as he could back to Docholli an Moss.

The explosion caught him just as he reached them, the three thrown to the floor as plaster and debris rained down upon them.

Avalon and her team were making good time through the factory. They were in position to take out the bionic reconstruction facilities, the wards holding the new mutoids, and the main offices. There had been no one in the offices; it being fairly late at night and just before shift change, none of the daytime staff had been on duty. Avalon’s team had quickly rifled through the computers and paperwork for any intel they could find, before setting their timed charges and moving on. 

The bionic reconstruction facilities had also been shut at the time the invaders had struck; but that area had been thoroughly ransacked although there was no one to be seen, and it was empty now. Not one to miss an opportunity, more charges were primed and strategically placed.

Avalon and her team had expected that in the wards containing the new mutoids, their luck would run out and they would meet with heavy resistance. Even a new mutoid was fully capable of fighting the moment they were activated following surgery to integrate their implants. And a couple of wards of mutoids would surely be able to hold back a small army of invaders.

No one and nothing was in sight however.

After planting yet more bombs, Avalon made the fateful decision to try and see if they could rescue any of the prisoners on the other side of the factory. The quickest way to get to that area, was to cross the mutoid drill square housing the radio transmitter.

Team one were in the thick of the fighting, almost before they were aware of it, with Avalon loosing three of her team within moments as a single shot from one of the invaders drilled through all three without pause, exploding the wall behind them as well, such was its power. Avalon and her remaining rebel, Ignatius, were both seasoned fighters, but even they were shocked by the speed at which the attack had happened. Ignatius managed to return fire and down the invader almost immediately, but another black clad individual was in his place almost immediately and a shot in his direction was met by a force shield.

“What are they?” he hissed at Avalon.

“They’ll be dead in a minute what ever they are,” Avalon responded grimly priming the last of their devises and standing up just long enough to throw it into the yard.

The explosion was deafening; with their ears ringing from the force of the concussion neither Avalon or Ignatius heard the creaking of twisted metal as the radio tower fell.

Fargus and his pilot made it to the outer wall of the building safely and, pressing closely against it, made their way along the wall until they came to a door. It was already open. Fargus moved closer, his firearm at the ready.

“Be careful, we don’t know what we will find,” his pilot warned.

Fargus nodded. Unlike the rest of the rebel’s Fargus was not an inherent fighter, he had been a professor of agriculture, until the Federation had seized control of his home planet, turning green fields and ripening crops into desolate wasteland and open pits which they mined for minerals. He was one of a handful of elders who had chosen to fight, who had then been chosen by Avalon in turn, to rescue the prisoners as he had a way about him, usually from the first meeting. Fargus knew how to read people, and how to get the best out of them.

His pilot was different. They were a quick and able fighter, and a superb pilot, and one Avalon knew she could trust completely, even though they’d only just arrived a few hours before they had been due to leave for this mission.

“Halt, who goes there?” a voice in the dark challenged almost immediately.

“Are you Federation?” Fargus whispered back.

“You’re reinforcements?”

“Of a sort,” Fargus replied, fairly certain he was dealing with someone ill equipped to be fighting any more than he was. The voice sounded young and scared. “We can get you to safety, but you need to come out,”

“Why can’t you come in?”

Another explosion which shook the building cut off the end of the question.

“It’s too dangerous, the building is going to collapse at any moment,” Fargus responded when the dust had settled.

“All… all right then, if you promise not to shoot…” the voice said softly, and a young girl of about 16 stepped through the door.

“Where are the rest of you?”

“There are only about a dozen of us left; the rest of us… have been turned. They took the oldest first, as they were more likely to cause trouble. Can you help?”

“We’ll certainly try. See that line of trees over there. Follow my pilot Jen, and she’ll keep you safe.”

“I generally find that if one wants their whereabouts to remain undetected, then conversing with a computer which have a very loud voice is not particularly helpful,” Tarrant said with a slight smirk in his voice.

“What have you done with Blake and the rest of the crew?” Cally challenged.

“We have not seen them.” Worf said firmly. “You are the first person to arrive… since our own arrival.”

“And you have just helpfully confirmed that you’re part of the ships crew. Which one are you I wonder, Jenna or Cally?” Tarrant added.

“I will tell you nothing,” Cally said defiantly.

“Now that’s a pity, don’t you think so Mr Worf as…”

“…Oh and why is that?” Cally interrupted, cutting across Tarrant If you plan is to torture me, you’ll be sadly…”

Cally herself was interrupted by Worf. “We are not intending to torture you,” he said firmly. “We are seeking information. My security detail and I were beamed aboard this ship against our will…”

“And you?” Cally said turning on Tarrant.

Tarrant’s smile widened. “Me? Oh I arrived by more conventional means, mostly. My shuttle is docked in one of your bays, she’s not particularly flight worthy any more, but her presence should serve to verify my story at least.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“No doubt your computer will be able to verify our accounts; it should have a data log that can be viewed.” Worf suggested.

“That and the fact that we have successfully captured your sitting tenants in the form of Section Leader Klegg and the rest of his death squad, should back up our story. They are tied up and locked up in various rooms. You’re welcome by the way!”

“Zen is this true?” Cally said not taking her eyes off Worf or Tarrant.

\+ Confirmed +

“Which bit of it?”

\+ All information given during this confirmation +

“See, now you can relax a bit and put away that knife,” Tarrant said pleasantly.

“We need to work together, in order to understand what has happened to us,” Worf added.

“There you go, that’s got to be the right channel for your friend.” Donna said pointing.

“It is a computer, not a friend,” Avon corrected Donna automatically.

Donna took no notice. “Well your computer then. Go on try it. You won’t know until you do, will you Mr Nobody?”

With a look at Donna, irritated at her choice of words, though her logic was sound. Avon connected to the online presence which had been showing up in several of the _Enterprises_ subroutines; the carrier wave matched Orac’s. “Orac this is Avon can you hear me?”

Silence.

Donna nudged Avon causing him to wince. “Try again, go on?”

Gritting his teeth, Avon tried again, very familiar with the super computers history of not answering a question if it didn’t want to, or deemed it unnecessary. “Orac?”

“What is it now, I’m terribly busy.”

“Orac, this is Avon…”

“Well of course you are. I must say this is a very inconvenient time, I’m terribly busy right now.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Avon said dryly, he and Donna had been tracking Orac’s attempts to infiltrate the computer system of the ship they were on for several minutes now, until Avon was reasonably certain the ‘footprints’ he was following were indeed Orac and not a member of the_ Enterprises’_ crew. It had taken a surprisingly short time for Avon, using Donna’s tools to complete a rudimentary system designed to find either Orac or Zen’s unique signatures. However Avon was becoming acutely aware of the passage of time, and didn’t think they’d have much longer before Donna’s absence was discovered. It made him even more impatient.

“Well?”

“Go on, ask him…” Donna prompted, fascinated by the oscillating wave signal that jumped and spiked in time with the irritable voice she could hear, coming out of the twin speakers no bigger than ten pence pieces on Avon’s lap.

“It,” Avon corrected automatically.

Another nudge.

“Orac do you know where you are?” Avon asked carefully, ignoring Donna, though he was quickly finding that ignoring her was harder than ignoring Vila. Vila at least knew when to stop; apparently Donna had no off switch.

“Well of course not. Not precisely at least,” Orac said tersely. “I’m still shut inside my carrying case. Although I can tell you I believe myself to be aboard a space vehicle. I am aware of vibrations consistent with being in a powered vessel operating inside a vacuum,”

Donna and Avon traded a glance.

“Do you know the name of this vessel?” Donna asked.

“Who’s this?”

“Forget about that, just answer the question Orac.”

“Very well, I am aboard the Starship _Enterprise_.”

Avon and Donna exchanged a significant glance.

Will Riker considered himself to be a patient man; he was intelligent, smart and a logical thinker. He had taken to command training like a duck to water, and had excelled in battlefield techniques, personnel deployment and assessment, in combat training, martial arts and weaponry, he had taken first aid classes and learnt the basics of the sciences and engineering, he could fly many types of space vehicles and was good at astro navigation; he was a hands on type of commander who had made Captain Jean-Luc Picard a brilliant, strong and steady Second in Command.

He excelled at poker and the physical sport of Parrises squares, he enjoyed fishing, mysteries and chess. He was a good at cooking and music, playing several instruments. But what he was not good at, surprisingly was anything to do with small fiddly stuff with his hands - apparently.

As Hal Mellanby had said, Dayna was very good at building weapons, and had produced an intriguing array of them from those with a programmable memory which could be locked onto a target that would then self track until the trigger was pulled ensuring a hit 9.9 times out of 10, to those that would simply shock the target in a hope of dissuading a type of unwanted behaviour, to just about everything in between. She had her own workshop in what had been part of the engineering section of their home, and it was here that she and Riker tried to fix his combadge, leading Riker to his less than happy conclusion that he was bad a small fiddly electronics.

Either that or the combadge had been completely broken to start with.

Or possibly both.

Aware of the composition of Star Fleet’s standard communication device, Riker had carefully taken his combadge apart with Dayna’s help, carefully cleaning each component before putting it back together and trying it. It didn’t work. The combadge was made up of a crystalline composite of gold, microfilament, silicone, beryllium and carbon-70. Dayna’s suggestion that dust could have effected the semiconductor on the solid state components had seemed to be true, since there was a fair proportion of debris within the combadge. It was only when it was being taken apart for the second time, that a small hairline crack was noticed in the outside casing, casting a doubt in the integrity of the case and the purity of the crystalline signal.

More careful cleaning was carried out, the crack didn’t seem to be that deep, and a decision was made to try to run a small an electrical current across the device while it was still open to see if the problem had been resolved. However the ampere they used had been too high, causing a break in one of the microfilaments. The break had been seen clearly by a slight puff of smoke emitting from the badge, but it had taken an hour to find the break under a microscope, and then another couple of hours and the stripping one of Dayna’s latest weapons to find a replacement microfilament that was thin enough.

After fitting the replacement, and lowering the output of the electrical current Riker and Dayna tried again. This time the combadge lasted a little longer, until the microfilament burned out again. A third try produced much the same results, before a fourth attempt to fit the last of the filament Dayna had, saw a battery used to charge the device.

There was a sharp cracking sound after thirty seconds however that warned Riker that they were still not going to be successful. The microfilament had held that time, but the uneven power from the battery had seen beryllium crystal, possibly already weakened from previous attempts, crack through the centre.

The combadge was officially dead.

“I’m so sorry,” Dayna said sympathetically as she started to pack away her tools.

Riker shrugged. “It’s just one of those things I guess. But it does leave me with a problem of how to contact my ship.”

“Will they not send out a search team for you?”

“They will, but it’s doubtful that they will think to look under the sea for me.”

“They will if they scan the area surely?”

“Agreed, but that’s going to take time,” Riker said with a frown.

Dayna smiled at him. She had grown to like him enormously. “Then we shall just have to keep you entertained until that happens. Come, it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight, you can help me out if you like? After our meal we can set a beacon so your friends can find you, the Sarrans will have become bored by then and the entrance will probably be clear.”

Knowing that he couldn’t afford to upset his hostess Riker nodded, realising that there was little else he could do at that point.

Sleer was still sleeping Riker saw some time later, when Dayna and her sister Iesha started to lay the table. 

The two Mellanby sisters had decided that they were going to use the good crockery tonight in honour of their unexpected guest. Dayna had enjoyed her afternoon with the Commander, despite the setbacks he’d had in contacting his ship. As they’d worked in the small galley kitchen she’d taught him how to roast the local fish after first marinating it in vinegar, pepper and the wine Hal made himself.

Dinner was a pleasant meal, Riker a polite guest, telling a few tales of his exploits, while Hal spoke of his latest aquaponics designs which he hoped to patent for future new settlements on planets with a higher ratio of water to land than usual.

Until at last the topic turned back to Riker, and the reason for his continued presence on Sarran.

“Were you able to fix your communication device? Dayna is so clever with electronic wizardry.” Hal said warmly.

“I’m afraid not no. We came close a couple of time, but in the end the beryllium crystal cracked, so that put an end to things.” Riker said pleasantly. “Dayna suggested that we could set a homing beacon on the beach after dinner so the inevitable search party will be able to find me.”

“A good idea,” Hal agreed. “Although perhaps trying our radio transmitter might be easier?”

Riker put down his fork. “You have a radio transmitter?” he said giving Dayna a hard look.

“Why yes of course, I’m surprised Dayna hasn’t told you.”

“Frankly, so am I,” Riker agreed. “Why is that Dayna?”

Dayna met Rikers stare head on, only a little bit embarrassed. “I didn’t think it suitable,” she said firmly.

“Oh how so?” Riker asked

“Yes, just why is that?” Hal added.

“Because our signal modulation is too slow for your system. You use FTL signals as standard, while our own transmitter is SOL. I didn’t see there was much point in getting your hopes up.”

Riker could understand Dayna’s explanation, if it were true, however he was annoyed that he had been kept in the dark over a potential solution to his problem. “It still would have been better if you had told me about it. There might be a way to modulate the signal to…”

“There is not,” Dayna said quickly. “I discounted that while you were attempting to reinsert the microfilament for the second time. “The ampage is also too strong to try and connect the two together…”

“It wouldn’t work now the beryllium is cracked now in any case.”

“There you are then.”

“I would still have liked to know.”

“Then Dayna will take you to our control room after our meal and you can see if there is anything there which will help you contact your friends.” Hal said firmly, turning his head in Dayna’s direction in what was a clear warning, despite the fact he couldn’t see.

They finished the rest of their meal rather quicker than they had started. Riker rising to his feet and dabbing his mouth with a napkin after a brief pause. “Thank you for your hospitality, it’s really appreciated, but I really do need to see if I can contact my ship and let them know where I am. If the transporter is still malfunctioning, they should be able to rescue me, or if not, then they can send a shuttle down to collect me.”

A slightly sulky Dayna and Will Riker missed seeing Servalan sneak out of the room by a couple of moments. The radio had been switched off, and everything looked the same as it had been when Dayna had last been there. She sat down in the same warn plastic chair as Servalan, not noticing that the seat had not been cold, as she switched the radio off, and handed the microphone to Riker.

Looking at the antiquated system, Will Riker was not that hopeful that his SOS was going to reach the _Enterprise _as they did not routinely scan for SOL frequencies. However there was a chance, that with him being MIA, that the Captain would have widened the usual search parameters, and someone aboard the ship would hear him.

Someone, or rather something did.

Orac.

Orac heard the second SOS from the planet’s surface, just as it had caught Servalan’s earlier transmission. Orac had blocked Servalan’s broadcast knowing her to be an enemy. He now blocked Riker’s as he had yet to gain any appreciable control of the _Enterprise,_ and his continuing efforts would likely to be ten times more difficult if the ship were to move away from the planet and actively engage more of it’s systems.

In exchange for a promise to try and reach Zen, Avon’s rudimentary knowledge of the Tarriel cell’s construction and composition had been insightful. Orac was still having difficulties in controlling more than the rudimentary systems of the _Enterprise_, but now he might just have another plan.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay with this. We've had a poorly cat to deal with. He's getting better, but has (hopefully) understandably taken up my time.

“So you are saying that each of you should be wearing one of these transporter homing beacons and communicators?” The Doctor said thoughtfully.

“The bracelets, yes,” Vila agreed helpfully, handing the Doctor a 12” box ended wrench, which the Doctor passed onto Deanna so she could hold the nut he was trying to tighten steady. The three of them were on a mission – to put the Tardis back together again as quickly as possible.

In this Vila was a better at assisting than Donna as he had worked as Avon’s assistant when he had been tinkering with the _Liberator _for so long that he had a better grasp of the tools the Doctor might need. And right at that moment, the Doctor needed to rebuild the directional and dimensional controls along with the monitor and coordinate modifier.

The Doctor was rebuilding the Tardis at speed; the tea had worked well as an ice breaker for the unlikely trio, but especially for the Doctor, for during the discussion that followed, he had an idea. If not exactly how to fix the problem that he was facing – to get his guests home and find and retrieve Donna; then at lease where he should start to look, and once he knew that, then it should be possible for him to neutralise the worst effects of what was happening and stop the events from multiplying or expanding or indeed from ever happening again.

Not that the Doctor minded meeting new people, it was one of the reasons he travelled after all; he’d just rather meet them on his own terms, which didn’t include them colliding temporally with the Tardis.

The Doctor found Deanna a delight. She was funny and warm, her empathic abilities were like a light comforting blanket. However Troi’s verbal description of the anomaly that she had seen hadn’t helped the Doctor that much. She hadn’t taken that much notice of it, being rather focused on other things. However she had seen a glimpse of it, and had been able to give him a more mental image than just a brief description when the Doctor had briefly touched her mind – watched on by a half scared/have enthralled Vila.

The doctor had seen and witnessed much in his 900+ years, and had forgotten more than most people ever knew or remembered. No two anomalies were ever the same, but they did tend to fall into several different categories, if an anomaly could, by it’s very definition and nature, be categorised.

By using Troi’s mental image, the Doctor had very quickly ruled out, black holes, giant voids empty of space, dark matter that looked like blotchy fog or the over exposure of lights on an old fashioned photographic plate, dark energy which were multi-coloured dancing lights, a great attractor – curious fixed points in space that drew matter towards them getting brighter and brighter until they imploded in on themselves and went super nova, super nova’s themselves. Dyson swarms, mega structures that harvested all nearby energy output – since the _Enterprise_ hadn’t been drawn towards it or drained of power, that was ruled out. Runaway stars, moving too fast and shedding matter in their wake, bursts of gamma rays, that looked like blue/white/purple starbursts, super nova reversals, that turned into zombie stars that should die, but didn’t. White holes, black dwarfs, quark stars forming from a collapsing sun, chthonian planets that continually bled their oxygen/carbon into space creating spectacular halos, Preon stars, where their matter was compressed tightly into a blue white moonlet, ghost galaxies that appeared as mists in space, cosmic strings, solar vortexes, binary and trinary star systems and time vortexes.

Troi’s mind picture of orange and green swirls of colour, twinkling pin points of light which seemed to move independently contained in a misty pulsing reddish glow, didn’t remind the Doctor of anything; so he hoped he now knew what the anomaly wasn’t. 

It was a bit of a puzzle, truth to be told, but the Doctor thrived on a challenge. He’d ruled out a straight forward time vortex reluctantly as they were usually on the blue/white/lilac/purple/green spectrum and typically swirled out from a central point either bendy or straight or falling up or down. However there had to be a time element within what was happening/had happened to them for Vila and Troi to be in the Tardis, there also had to be Timelines crossing since the only recognisable constant in both descriptions of their vastly different Federations was the Sol system.

What he needed the Doctor decided was to see this anomaly for himself, only in order to do that, he had to get Deanna home.

Troi didn’t know the name of the planet round which the _Enterprise _had been orbiting, nor did Vila know the name of the planet on which he’d landed. Troi didn’t know the coordinates of the planet the _Enterprise_ had been in orbit around either, any more than Vila was aware of which sector the planet he’d landed on, followed by the Tardis had been in- and of course the Doctor hadn’t had the time to or thought to check the coordinates either – he’d been too busy being shocked by Vila’s abrupt appearance.

However it now seamed fairly certain that Vila’s friend Avon had been rescued by Troi’s ship, and while Troi didn’t even have a telepathic link or inkling of where to look for her crew – Vila was wearing a homing beacon to the _Liberator_, which had, at some point, been close to the planet that the _Enterprise _was orbiting for Avon to have ended up there- so if they could trace the teleport bracelet to the _Liberator_, or there was every chance everyone would get home and enable the Doctor to get a fix on the anomaly, see it for himself, and work out how best to deal with it.

Well, that was their working theory at any rate.

So what the Doctor was building now, well, adding into the Tardis as she was put back together was a kind of directional pathfinder for tracking the signal given off by Vila’s teleport bracelet. Once Vila had admitted what it was, and the fact that all the _Liberators_ crew wore them when away from the ship, the rest had been child’s play for the Doctor

By dint of twisting the Fast Return Switch half a cm to the right and then bashing it a couple of times with his trusty mallet, the coupling the Doctor had been working on, clicked into place and he wiggled out from beneath that particular control panel.

“Right then Vila, lets be having that bracelet of yours and see if we can’t track down your ship for you Deanna,” the Doctor said with a grin, already excited to begin a new adventure.

Cally turned to look at Tarrant as Zen finished his report. “Well at least there is some truth to your story, you are at least on the Federations wanted list,” she said relieved.

“Yes well, I had hoped to be somewhat higher up it than in the mid range,” Tarrant pouted, sounding most put out, that he wasn’t near the top.

“You were at no 87,” Worf corrected. “That hardly counts as mid range.”

“All right, no need to rub it in.”

“I do not understand, I thought you would be pleased to be considered not that particularly effective as a criminal.” the Klingon said puzzled.

“Yes well, ‘our’ Federation are not particularly nice, they’re bullies and thugs for the most part,” Tarrant explained. “To be considered a criminal by them, would mean I was doing something right!”

“Your Federation?” Cally asked confused. “What do you mean by that? There is only one Federation surely.”

“Ah!” said Tarrant helpfully. “Now this is where it’s going to get a little weird.”

“I am a Federation Starfleet Officer,” Worf said firmly.

Cally frowned at both Worf and Tarrant. “I know of no “Star Fleet” what is that?”

“As we are trying to explain, Worf is not from around here,” Tarrant said carefully.

“My men and I were transported aboard this ship when we tried to beam down to the planet designated as RK2579, as we had managed to loose track of our First Officer when he and a landing party went to the aid of a life capsule in distress on that planet.”

“I have never heard of planet RH2579,” Cally retorted.

“That’s what we’re trying to tell you, you won’t have. Worf is from somewhere else, quite literally.”

“Or he is an alien trying to trick us.” Cally suggested.

Worf snorted. “I am a Klingon,” he said firmly.

“Yes, and you’re an Auron and I’m a Human so we’re all aliens to each other aren’t we,” Tarrant said calmly.

Cally nodded. “That does sound reasonable,” she concluded. “However there is one way to check your story. “Zen what do you know of planet RH 2579?” she queried out loud.

\+ There is no known planet with that designation. +

“Zen what can you tell me of the Klingon race or people?”

\+ There is no information on the Klingon race or people. +

“Are you telling me that you have heard of them though?”

\+ The information you requested is unknown. +

“There, satisfied?” Tarrant asked.

\+ Zen, are you able to scan Mr Worf and determine his planet of origin?” Cally asked ignoring Tarrant to frown at Worf, who was now looking singularly less than impressed.

\+ Place a sample of the material you wish to be scanned on my sensor for analysis. +

“If you would be so kind?” Cally directed, brandishing the knife she was still holding towards Worf and gesturing towards Zen’s domed sensor by the front of his vocal point. “Put your hand on Zen’s sensor plate, there…”

Worf exchanged a glance with Tarrant. He was pretty sure he could take Cally down in a couple of seconds; she posed no serious threat to him. However it would be better to continue aboard the ship with the co-operation of at least some of the crew. It was with bad grace and a positive glower that Worf allowed himself to be directed towards Zen’s sensor where he placed his hand where directed. “What must I do now?” he grumbled.

\+ This species is of unknown origin. + Zen reported almost immediately.

Even though he had been expecting it Tarrant looked as shocked as Cally.

“Zen, confirm analysis?” she directed.

\+ This species is not recognised. +

“Did he originate from the Andromeda galaxy?” Cally asked, wondering if Worf was an alien after all.

\+ No match is found from any record of that galaxy. +

“What’s that supposed to mean? Zen please clarify your report.”

\+ No further information can be given. +

“I do not originate from your Andromedan galaxy,” Worf said firmly, taking his hand away.

“There must be a logical explanation, there has to be a malfunction of some kind. Zen has not finished repairing this ship and is not fully operational.”

“Zen what is your operational status?” Tarrant asked.

Zen remained silent.

“Zen will only respond to a member of this ship's true crew, unless I direct him otherwise.”

“Then ask him the question yourself?” Tarrant challenged.

“First, you place your hand on the sensor.”

Exchanging a glance with Worf, Tarrant shrugged. “Oh very well, this is getting rather tedious now. We have no reason to lie to you.”

“Is not the_ Liberator_ reason enough?”

“You’ve said it yourself, and as it has ably demonstrated, it only responds to a member of this ships crew, we’re just passengers, and it’s probably still malfunctioning after the battle.”

“Place your hand on the sensor, I won’t ask you again.”

“Like this you mean?”

“Zen?”

\+ This individual is known as Del Tarrant, human, graduate of the Federation Space Academy, rank Space Captain. Currently listed as MIA in Outer Planetary System by Major Leighton, of Squadron 179. + Zen reported without inflection.

Tarrant hastily snatched his hand back. “Yes, well, it seems to be working a little too well in my opinion.”

Cally looked from Tarrant to Worf and back again. “It seems for the moment, that I have no reason to distrust you,” she said reluctantly, lowering the knife she was carrying to put it back in her pocket. “I will however be watching you closely.”

“I would not expect anything less,” Worf agreed. “However if we intend to continue this discussion and work out what we intend to do next, perhaps you would feel more comfortable more appropriately clothed.

Cally regarded her dressing gown and smiled ruefully. “You might be right on that count. However there will be no discussion on what we are going to do next. When the _Liberator _was damaged in the intergalactic battle we all had to abandon ship in life pods in order to survive. Now the ship is functional again, we must pick up the remainder of our crew.”

Tarrant opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. He had no place he needed to be, and would be happy to stay on the _Liberator_ for the foreseeable future at least.

“Good, then it is decided.” Cally continued.

“While we are searching for your crew, perhaps we could also find some time to search for my ship as well,” Worf suggested. “It would be a reasonable assumption that the life capsule we were tracking could have been from this ship. My men and I would be grateful for any assistance in this area.”

“Then you shall have it, provided we do not loose any time in searching for my crew. Zen do you have a signal lock on Blake, Jenna, Vila, Avon and Orac?”

\+ I have co-ordinates for Blake. + Zen replied.

“No one else?”

\+ Sensor analysis suggests that they are either out of range or else not wearing their teleport bracelets. +

“Very well, set a course for Blake’s location.”

“Confirmed.”

Vila watched anxiously as the Doctor buzzed his screw driver at his teleport bracelet, keeping up a stream of babbling nonsense while he did so, frequently changing the settings which consequently bathed the bracelet in multi coloured lights. “What ever it is you’re doing, is not going to harm it is it? Only that’s my only way of getting home see?”

“I am confident that the Doctor knows what he is doing Vila,” Troi said soothingly.

“Good. I’m glad you are, because I’m not, not really… I don’t like beepy things?”

“Aquitar?” the Doctor said frowning, looking at the mechanism of the bracelet in surprise. He had carefully prised the back off so he could get a closer look at the controls, in order to understand its full function and properties. That way he could programme the Tardis search range for it properly. “Who uses Aquitar now a days? It’s been banned for…. Oh, I don’t know several centuries, if I remember correctly.”

“Banned, why was it banned?” Vila asked in mounting panic.

“Ohhhh, I don’t know…. Something about, no, that’s not it,… wasn’t it… Wait… something possibly to do with how it was mined?”

“How was it mined?” Vila swallowed.

The Doctor looked over the top of his brainy specs as Donna called his glasses. “Yes that was it. The prospectors who first found it understood it’s properties quite quickly and so set about strip mining the mineral, and they didn’t care who or what they hurt in the process. They gave absolutely no thought to the lifeforms, the various indigenous species inhabiting the planet, or what it’s removal would mean to them.”

“Doctor, you know what this means?” Troi said looking excited.

“It’s poisonous?” Vila hazarded.

“Poisonous?” The Doctor scoffed. “How do you go from practically committing genocide of the native peoples, to poisonous?”

Vila looked put out. “It could be… I mean I always feel a little unsettled whenever I use that thing anyway?”

“Yes well, that would be because the teleport works on molecular level. Your body is broken down into incredibly small partials, literally taken apart at a molecular level, beamed through space and then reassembled at the other end,” the Doctor said helpfully. “It’s easy!”

“I feel sick…”

“Doctor!” Troy said more firmly. “Please a moment of your time...”

The Doctor obligingly looked in Deanna’s direction.

“You recognised the Aquitar.” Troi said firmly, a statement, rather than a question..

“I have, but that’s not really surprising, once the conglomerates had finished strip mining the planet it came from, and almost destroying it in the process, it became fairly common place, then became obsolete in the flash of an eye when Beridiam was found – cheaper, harder wearing, a better conductor and easy to make so long as you have a very big advanced chemistry set. Aquitar then became almost as worthless as yesterday’s news.”

“No, you’re missing the point. I’ve never heard of it, and I’ve been travelling through the galaxy for years. The Aquitar you’ve found is in Vila’s bracelet, which comes from Vila’s world, but you’ve heard of it in your world too. Up until know, all we’ve had in common has been the planets of the Sol system. No other system of things has matched.”

The Doctor looked at Troi for several moments, processing her statement, before hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Sometimes I can be a thick as a thickety thing is thick! Of course! You’re right Deanna, you’re very, very right… now all I just need… is one of …. These…” the Doctor said delving into his tool box to bring out a weird looking contraption that looked a bit like a steam punk version of a magnifying glass crossed with a spectrometer.”

“Eh.. What are you doing?” Vila asked.

“I have no idea,” the Doctor admitted cheerfully, busily adjusting his gadget and installing it. “However once I’ve finished with my sonic I’ll programme the Tardis to search from the source of the signal on your braceletty thingamabob, then we can get underway…”.

Riker coughed, spitting out plaster, dust and bits of ceiling insulation. The explosion had been a lot bigger than he’d thought. He, Docholli and Moss had been hit several times by plasterboard, falling masonry, ceiling tiles and tons of plaster and cement debris. Blake and Docholli had been uninjured, but Moss had been unlucky enough to catch a bit of steel girder through his shin.

“We need to turn back,” Docholli suggested as he wrapped a piece of sleeve torn from Moss shirt round his leg to act as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.

“I want to see how much damage we’ve done first. To make sure I killed that thing, whatever it is,” Blake said firmly. “There were two techs in the lab, if they’ve survived we should get them to safety too.”

Docholli nodded curtly. “Do what you must, but be quick about it,” he suggested. “We need to get Moss to a place of safety, before we set the rest of the charges.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Just fix my leg up… I can make it,” Moss himself suggested.

Blake gave both the other men a look, squeezed Moss’ shoulder in a show of support, before moving carefully around the rubble, trying to make as little noise as possible. Blake made it to the end of the corridor and peered around the corner just in time to see a couple of the black invaders walk down the corridor, stepping round the fallen bits of building effortlessly.

Keeping out of sight so they didn’t see him, Blake watched as they entered what was left of the lab. Part of the ceiling was down, lights, sparking wires, exposed beams and tiles clinging in vein to what was left. The computer had been severely damaged and was clearly past fixing, fit for nothing but the scrap heap. Blake couldn’t see the two lab assistants but the body of the black invader was visible and was clearly dead. Blake watched as one of the other invaders stepped over to his fallen colleague and started to remove the obvious bits of specialised tech from the body, the eye piece and laser sight, part of the weaponry and something from the invaders chest. Within in moments of the last piece of tech being removed, the body seemed to silently loose molecular cohesion and turn to dust, leaving nothing but a slight shadow shaped stain where it had been.

Blake turned away in disgust.

Avalon sat up slowly, coughing from the dust and debris that had found its way into her lungs. A couple of feet away the body of Ignatius lay in among a pile of rubble, his neck at an odd angle and clearly broken; he was quite dead. Carefully rising into a crouched position, Avalon looked round her cautiously. There was nothing to see but rubble and the flickering of flames through a fractured window. Nothing and no one was moving. Avalon took off at a sprint across the courtyard to disappear back into the building and head towards the prison block, intending to reach Fargus team and regroup.

Fargus quickly ushered the last of the children through the entrance of the factory pointing the young boy in the direction of the treeline where over a dozen children had already escaped too. It was just at that moment that a Federation guard chose to round the corner of the building.

“Halt, you there, what are you doing?”

“Removing the last of the prisoners to safety. We didn’t want the threat of the invaders taking everyone.” Fargus replied truthfully.

“On whose authority, where’s your identity?” the guard asked, suspicious, but knowing that the factory had just had an intake of fresh staff as well as prisoners.

Fargus patted his pockets, pretending to have a pass on him. “Just a minute, I have it somewhere along with my instructions. I got dressed hastily in the attack you know,” he suggested.

Sounds of gunfire and laser weapons firing broke the silence, the Borg pressing their advantage home around the corner the guard had just come from.

The guard looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it now, but report to Captain Ansell in the morning,” he ordered, lifting his rifle and preparing to re-enter the affray. “Well go on then, get them new recruits to safety; we’re going to need to make more mutoids then ever once this lot are gone.”

Realising he had just had a very lucky escape, Fargus nodded, and turning his back walked away, feeling the eyes of the guard watch him with every step, willing himself to walk slowly and not do anything that might look suspicious in the other mans eyes. When he could stand the suspense no longer, he turned to look over his shoulder at his unknown rescuer to find that he had gone. With a quick flash of relief, Fargus did start to run then, clearing the fence and making straight for the treeline where the children had gone.

Data put the glowing red lightbulb from the Tardis on the centre of the table in the_ Enterprise’s_ observation room.

“A curious object Mr Data,” Picard observed, “but we are here to discuss more pressing matters. Both of our unexpected guests are throwing up more questions then they seem to be able to answer.”

“Indeed Captain,” Data agreed. “However the reason I found this object interesting, in fact I might even go so far as to say fascinating, is the apparent lack of an visible power source. It is illuminated when it should not be. It was being held by one of our guests, Ms Donna Noble, upon her arrival.”

“I see, is it connected to her in some manner then?” Picard said looking at the lightbulb with more interest.

“That is what I have been attempting to ascertain Captain,” Data replied.

With Riker, Troi and Worf missing, the usual Command crew were rather thin on the ground, Geordi was present, though he was attempting to keep track of the continuing malfunctions to the _Enterprise,_ but Beverly was absent, now operating on the crewman who’d been injured in cargo bay 12.

Realising that there might be something more than the usual everyday happenings going on, Picard had also asked Guinan to join them too, hoping she might have some insight into the situation.

“In order to ascertain the power source of the object in question, I have run a complete spectral analysis on the light bulb. As you are aware, the normal wavelength of red light is 650 nanometres. However in this instance although the colour emitted is red, the wavelength of that is registering is 380 nanometres…”

“The equivalent of ultraviolet light,” La Forge finished.

“Yes, Geordi,” Data agreed.

“And what is the significance of this?” Picard asked.

“That, I have yet to ascertain. I can find no visible or invisible connections or outside influences surrounding the light bulb, so would be very surprised if Ms Noble is able to effect its appearance or energy output. Or if she is able to do so, how that is able to come about.”

“Have you asked her about it?”

“Not yet Captain. I plan to do so, as soon as we have concluded here. There are some additional tests that I also intend to run on the light bulb. Including subjecting it to a stasis filed and limited vacuum to see if that will cause any changes to either its output or composition.”

“Very good Commander. Mr La Forge, what have you to report? Have you found the source of the electronic malfunctions aboard the _Enterprise?_ And has Lt Marksham been able to ascertain what went wrong with our transporters?”

“So far the transporters continue to check out clear. There are no signs of any malfunctions, when that’s clearly the case. Nor have we had any luck in tracking down the electronic malfunctions, for the most part, there appears to be no rhyme nor reason to the areas so far affected.”

“For the most part,” Picard repeated zeroing in on the qualifier Geordi had used.

“Yes sir. Leaving the malfunction of the transporter aside, the rest of the effected systems are automated subroutines – automatic sprinklers, temperature control, food processors, doors opening and closing, lights flickering, the loss of a couple of antigrav fields – I believe one of those is the reason Dr Crusher is absent. Nothing major, just niggles, but when taken together more than can be explained by random breakdown, even for a ship of this size which undergoes regular maintenance checks. We are just lucky that the glitches are to the subroutines…”

“Or else we could be looking at a potentially lethal set of circumstances if, for instance the matter containment fields on the warp core falls victim and suffers a failure,” Picard finished.

“Yes, that’s exactly it Captain. I have teams currently working round the clock to ensure our triple redundancies are functioning, as well as working on isolating their power source from the main feeds.”

“Very good see if you can…”

An unexpected call from the bridge cut off the rest of Picard’s sentence. “Captain, this is Lt Lenko. An unidentified ship bearing 117 mark 45 has just appeared from the dark size of RK2579. No, make that three ships sir, on an intercept course with the _Enterprise._ They are travelling at… at warp 2 sir.”

An image of the unidentified ships appeared on the back wall view screen as the ships sensors picked them up. They were completely circular and appeared to be spinning round their central axis; their appearance exactly like an old Earth depiction of a flying saucer complete with a domed area on the top, three on the bottom and lights around the leading edge of the saucer.

“Shields up, go to red alert and take evasive action, I’ll be right there,” Picard said already rising to his feet. “Mr La Forge I believe your talents will be best served from Engineering, we daren’t have a loss of power at the moment. Mr Data, you’re with me. Guinan, before we go, do you have any insight on the vessels? Have you seen anything like them before?” Picard asked.

“No, I have not,” Guinan replied. “But they do not appear to be very friendly.”

“That much seems certain,” Picard said dryly as he prepared to leave the observation room to stride confidently onto the bridge a moment later, Data at his side. 

“Open a hailing frequency,” he told the Lieutenant at tactical.

“Yes sir, hailing frequencies open.”

“This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship _Enterprise._ We are currently on a rescue mission. Under article 78 of the Galactic code of non-interference we request you leave us to peacefully conclude our business here.” Picard said standing in the centre of the bridge as Data slipped into his usual position at Opps.

“Sir, they have raised their shields,” the Lieutenant at tactical reported.

“Mr Data?”

“Scanning sir. Initial sensor sweep shows that their technology is completely unknown. Their force shield is at least comparable to ours. Fascinating, their weaponry seems to consist of partial beam emissions. A particle-beam weapon is a type of directed-energy weapon which uses a beam of atomic or subatomic particles to damage the target by disrupting its atomic and/or molecular structure by directing energy to focus on a point using particles with minuscule mass.”

“Thank you Mr Data. I am aware of the theory. Are you able to adjust our shields to compensate in some way. Some kind of oscillation or refraction?”

“I do not know,” Data admitted.

“Sir, we are being fired upon,” tactical confirmed.

“Evasive maneuvers Ensign Yergon.”

The _Enterprise_ moved out of the way of the just in time, but was still rocked from the inertia caused by the force of energy beam passed close by.

“This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship _Enterprise_. Cease fire. I repeat we are currently on a rescue mission, recovering our personnel from the planet below. Identify yourselves.” 

“Daleks do not take orders from humans. Daleks are the Supreme Beings. You will surrender immediately or you will be exterminated.” A voice responded as the viewscreen image changed to show an open planned room bathed in gold and red light. There was not much to see in the room except several upside-down dustbins with rounded ends. They had raised round bumps covering the lower half of their ‘bodies’ The circular dome bit at the end could clearly move and was fitted with a metal rod, attached to what looked like a ball joint at one end, and a socket at the other in the centre of which glowed an electric blue light. Each of the dustbins also had two protrusions half way down their ‘bodies’; one which looked like a rod with a suction cup on the other, the other an old fashioned type of laser weapon.

The dustbins, or Daleks, also starkly resembled old fashioned pepper pots on Earth, were mostly gold in colouring, the light shining off their obviously metal casing, although the lead Dalek was matt black, an absence of colour which seemed to suck in the light around it.

“You are aware of our species?” Picard said fascinated by his first look at the Daleks.

“Daleks do not answer human questions. Humans are an infection that needs to be exterminated.” The black pepper pot announced in his mechanical voice, as the rod with the blue light in it moved up and down.

“Our mission here is a peaceful one.”

“Humans do not know the meaning of the word peace. Humans must be made to obey or they will be exterminated. This planet is now under Dalek control. You are prisoners of the Daleks, you will obey or you will be exterminated.”

“We were not aware that the planet below us was under your control. We came to the aid of a life capsule which landed on the planet’s surface and in doing so have lost contact with one of our landing party. I respectfully ask that we be allowed to recover our personnel and then we will leave this planet.”

“You are now the prisoners of the Daleks. You will provide coordinates for the life capsule then prepare to transport down to the planet where you will join our workforce.”

Picard made a cutting motion with his left hand out of sight of the view screen and turned so his back was toward it. “Mr Data, can the _Enterprise_ withstand a sustained attack from their particle beam weapons? Would adjusting our field harmonics to disrupt their focal point be of any use?”

Data turned towards the Captain. “There has been insufficient time for me to complete my computations and run the necessary simulations to be sure of my facts to a degree of accuracy that I would recommend. However early indications thus far have suggested we would be evenly matched ship for ship.”

“That’s good to know, except there are three of them…”

“Yes sir.”

“Any suggestions on altering those odds in our favour?”

“I am attempting to scan their ships for signs of inherent weakness. From the schematics I have been able to gather so far, a precise hit on the disc rotor situated just below the main dome, would likely result in the lost of their vertical thrust drive. The rotation of their ships about a central axis, implies that they use the momentum to generate an artificial gravitational force, which in turn stabilises their ship. A direct hit would likely cause the loss of this gyroscopic effect causing them to veer out of control.”

“Just how precise a hit are we talking?”

“We would need to be accurate to 97%, and that is if our phasers can penetrate their shielding.”

“So a long shot at best?”

“A difficult target, but not impossible.” Data corrected.

Picard drew a breath frustrated “Damn it, we can not, I will not, leave Commander Riker on the planet below,” he said firmly.

“Sir, if I might suggest. Perhaps our recent guests may have had some dealings with the Daleks, and could offer us some valuable insight.

Picard nodded. “Yes Mr data, you may well have something there. Very well, in essence what we need is time… so I had better try and buy us some. Lieutenant you may open hailing frequencies once more,” Picard said turning. “I apologise we have a little difficulty with our communications. My name is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, to whom am I speaking?”

Light glinted off the black studs as the Dalek moved closer to its viewscreen, the eye stalk with it’s unblinking blue light moved upwards. “My name is Dalek Caan. You will surrender our ship or be exterminated.”

“Yes, so you keep saying.”

“You doubt my word?”

“No, not at all, I just question whether this is necessary? We are only interested in recovering our missing crew members. We have no claim or interest in the planet below.”

“Your interests are of no concern. We are the Superior beings. You will obey us or you will be exterminated.”

“Captain, they appear to be powering up their energy weapon.”

Not entirely play acting, Picard held up his hands. “All right, all right, there’s no need for this. We will transport down to the planets surface, but we will need time to do so.”

“You have 6,000 rels,” Caan announced before the screen went dead.

“What the hell is a rel?” Picard asked turning to Data once more.

Picard strode into sickbay a scant three minutes later with Data once more beside him having left the bridge to Lieutenant Lenko once more. With no precise translation of rels to standard time, but knowing that 600 seconds would be the equivalent of two standard hours, they were working on the assumption that they might have an hour, or two at the most to come up with a workable plan.

Picard and Data were still expecting Dr Crusher to be operating as they entered the main medical area, so it was with surprise that they saw her just leaving the main operating suite as they walked in.

“Can I help you Captain?” Crusher asked, removing the gloves and headpiece she had been wearing.

Picard remembering his mistake of a day or so ago and another member of his crew answered accordingly. “How is your patient doing doctor?” he said with a nod towards the operating room.

“Very well thank you, he’ll be up and about in no time, but I doubt you came all this way just to ask about an antigrav malfunction injury?”

“Every member of my crew is important to me doctor,” Picard said truthfully.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it, though I never doubted it for one minute. So what really brings you here? Does it have anything to do with the small amount of turbulence we experienced a short while ago? I’m just glad I wasn’t in the middle of a delicate procedure at the time.”

“The crew man, is he?”

“You can relax Captain, he’s fine.”

“In that case I need to speak with our guests, and really it is a matter of some urgency.”

“I thought that might be the case. Ms Noble should be though here, where we left her, just next to my office.” Crusher said leading the way. Of course Donna was no longer sitting on the biobed where she’d been left nearly an hour or so ago. “Now where on Earth is she?”

“I think I might know the answer to that question.” Picard suggested dryly. “You said our other guest was now conscious?”

“Yes, but also in some discomfort.”

“Apparently he doesn’t mind having visitors.”

“There is another possibility Captain, Ms Noble, may have decided to explore this ship,” Data suggested.

“You could be right Mr Data, but my gut feeling is the two of them will be together, somewhere,” Picard said firmly.

“But it couldn’t have been planned. They’re from different galaxies,” Crusher pointed out.

“You are right doctor, however the fact that they are both here, is a testament that there is something afoot, to coin a phrase.” Data added.

“And really, we must get on.” Picard added.

Donna Noble and Kerr Avon were not getting along famously, but they were getting along. Both were on the same quest: to get home, and find their companion/s, so in that they had a common ground. From Avon’s point of view, Donna was a lot smarter than she seemed, but he was growing tired of her insistent questions, never wanting to take his word for anything. She was assisting him, willingly, but her positive nature was something of an irritant. They were in a dire situation, which to Avon’s mind she refused to grasp properly.

From Donna’s point of view, Avon was in the possession of a keen, almost brilliant mind; it paled into insignificance besides the Doctor’s of course, but then no mere human could hold the wealth of a Time Lord, and travelling with the Doctor had kind of spoiled Donna in that way. When he wasn’t busy scowling at her, Donna found Avon interesting however. Despite Avon’s assessment of her nature, Donna was keenly aware of their situation and desperate to get back to the Tardis. She found that she staved off her fear, by asking questions, it kept her busy, which suited her best.

Orac had been unable to gain access to the _Enterprises_ security system and cameras, so he continued to have no precise fix on its location, though they did have a few ideas. However all three recognised that they were working on supposition and conjecture at best. Orac believed itself to still be in his container, but that was the extent of its local knowledge. The case could have been kept with Avon in Sickbay next to him, it wasn’t Donna checked, and had a quick nose round most of the medical centre, or engineering, which was too far away for Donna to check. The case could equally be in a transporter room, though Donna had managed to check several empty rooms on the same deck, equally Orac could be in someone’s quarters or even locked in a cupboard somewhere. The ship was just too big to search, and as long as they could communicate, its location wasn’t the most pressing concern.

Finding someone from either Universe was. Zen and the _Liberator_ was an easy choice for Avon, since he knew the frequency that the _Liberator’s_ supercomputer transmitted on. Donna didn’t know the Tardis’ frequency, or even if it operated on one, but she did know that both she and the Tardis contained Huon particles, and wondered aloud if Avon were clever enough to find and then be able to track them.

Donna had made a couple of forays round and about and then outside sickbay, and had quickly noticed the looks she was getting until she happened upon a set of red surgical scrubs and a spare white coat in a storage area. Rather pleased with herself, Donna had started to venture further as Avon’s requests became ever more specific as he attempted to increase the range on his datapadd device.

“You want what?” Donna gave Avon a searching look.

“Another couple of power cells, bigger ones than before,” Avon said firmly, not bothering to look up.

“What happened to the last ones I got you?”

“Used them?”

“What? Already?”

“Yes, already. The receiver I’m constructing needs to have a very tight beam and focus and that takes power. Power equals energy, and lots of it.”

“Where am I supposed to get them from? It’s not as if I can just pop down to the local supermarket or go online and order them from Amazon is it?”

Avon looked up at that. He had no idea what Dona was talking about, but wasn’t about to let on. Nor did he see it as ‘his’ problem. “How should I know? Where did you get the last ones from?”

“I borrowed them from some medical equipment,” Donna admitted.

“Well then, the solution is obvious, borrow some more… just bigger ones…”

“I couldn’t find any bigger ones,”

“Then look again.”

“Fine!”

“Good.”

“It’s not as if I’m going to get caught wandering round this big ship, poking my nose into places and nicking stuff am I?”

“I have a suggestion.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t get caught.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a slightly smaller chapter this week - memo to self, must do better.
> 
> On the upside - things are about to get interesting!

“I do hope we’re not keeping you from something important Ms Noble?” Picard said mildly, opening the door to the ITU where Avon had been staying and only just narrowly stopping himself from bumping into Donna. He took in her altered appearance but said nothing for the moment.

Donna took a step backwards to prevent herself from colliding with the Captain, and did her best to cover both her confusion and immediate feelings of guilt and unease. “Yes well, a girl’s gotta keep in shape you know, time and tide wait for no one as they say, can’t be sitting around all day.”

“Indeed not, but you can’t seriously expect me to believe you were taking exercise? A short jog around the ship perhaps?”

“As a matter of interest, you would need to jog round this deck 2.532 times to equal one kilometre,” Data offered, standing just behind the Captain.

“Thank you Mr Data.” Picard said firmly.

“You are welcome sir,” Data replied, only realising at the last that the Captain was being sarcastic.

Donna had listened to the brief exchange eagerly while deliberately jogging up and down to prove her point.

Picard noticed her actions, but refused to comment on them. “Nevertheless,” he said quietly, though his voice was firm, “perhaps you will be good enough to give us a few moments of your time, your required exercise not withstanding, as you can imagine, there are things we need to discuss.”

Donna looked at the seriousness of the Captain’s expression and knew she couldn’t possibly win this particular battle. “Of course,” she agreed. “Although I don’t know what more I can tell you, other than what I’ve told you already.”

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Picard agreed, and gestured for Donna to proceed him back into Avon’s room.

Donna rolled her eyes at Avon as she walked in, gesturing with a flick of her head towards the others who followed her.

All eyes turned to Avon, but for a variety of reasons. Beverly Crusher was interested in his medical condition. Picard was determined that now their guest was clearly awake he would get some answers out of him, Data was most intrigued with the device Avon had been assembling from the datapadd.

“Intriguing, I believe you are attempting to build a transceiver from the LCARS interface, and appear to have added several modifications to adjust the radiofrequency bandwidth.” Data said curiously. “May I?” he continued, moving to pick up the device.

“No you may not,” Avon said snatching it out of reach of Data’s hands, then wincing at the pain the movement caused, glowering at the Lieutenant Commander.

“I did not mean to cause any offence,” Data apologised.

“Exactly whom were you trying to contact?” Picard said firmly. “Your friends, out there who have just issued us with an ultimatum?”

Avon looked at Picard with his usual arrogance. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about,” he said dismissively.

“We rescued you from a life pod on the planet below.” Picard continued. “Now, as a Starship Captain, I am aware that there are not that many instances that call for, or necessitate, a crew abandoning ship. Unless you were jettisoned for some reason?”

“If that’s what you’d like to think?”

“I don’t,” Picard said shortly. “I think you were in some kind of space battle and your ship was damaged.”

“Yes that’s what Vila said,” Donna agreed eagerly.

Avon shot Donna a look. “Vila’s an idiot!” he said facetiously.

“Ah so you do know him?” Picard said triumphantly.

“Was there ever any doubt?” Avon replied, determined not to admit he’d made a mistake in his off the cuff remark to Donna.

“What can you tell me about this space battle?” Picard asked Donna.

“Nothing. I wasn’t there. Like I told you before, the Doctor and I were about to go out for Dinna when his mate Vila walked in on us.”

“Yes, and?”

“And ?” Donna asked.

Picard gestured for Donna to continue.

Avon looked positively mutinous, especially when Beverly took out her medical tricorder and started to scan him with it while tapping commands into the monitors above his bed.

“I believe the Captain is asking you to continue with your tale.” Data added helpfully.

“There isn’t anything else. Vila came in, the Doctor couldn’t understand how he got onto the Tardis through it’s shields and apparently endless array of anti intruder devices, which apparently caused us to drop out of the time vortex.”

Avon smiled faintly to himself, when Vila set his mind to it, he could open any lock.

“…the Doctor started to take his ship apart in order to find a bit that was malfunctioning in some way, and found the red lightbulb thingy that’s supposed to warn if the Tardis is in trouble. What have you done with it by the way, he’s going to want to get that back.”

“Forget the lightbulb, did you say Vila’s appearance was causing your ship to malfunction?” Picard asked carefully.

“Well he got in, didn’t he?”

“The same way that you appear to be causing the _Enterprise _to malfunction too sir,” Picard said turning to Avon.

Avon crossed his good arm against his other. “You’re a fool,” he told the Captain. “I’ve been mostly unconscious since you rescued me, how can I possibly…”

“Oh would that be Or….” Donna started, but at the immediate look she got from Avon, she stopped and shut her mouth.

Picard was not amused nor happy. “Now you two, I don’t know what is going on, what you think you have to gain by this charade you are obviously playing but I will not stand for it, do you here me. You sir will return my ship to normal, then as soon as it’s practically possible you will be escorted to the brig. And you madam, had better start talking, right now, right this instance.”

Avon was thoroughly unimpressed with Picard. As far as he could determine, he was behaving just as childishly and high handily as Blake. “Since you’ve obviously made up your mind about me, there is little point in us continuing this conversation, and I am beginning to feel rather fatigued.”

Picard held his temper with difficulty. “What have the Daleks promised you? This ship? Your freedom? A small fortune or something else in return for our capture?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about…” Avon said firmly.

Donna looked surprised. “I’ve heard the Doctor talk about them,” she said slowly.

All eyes turned towards her. Donna did a double take. “What? Has my top think suddenly come undone or something?”

“What do you know about the Daleks?” Picard asked carefully.

“Nothing, the Doctor only mentioned them once in passing. Said they were all dead or something I believe.”

“Well they’re certainly not dead, they’ve three large ships and are threatening my ship and the safety of my crew. My First Officer is still down on the planet’s surface, where he has been stuck, ever since he went in to rescue you sir,” Picard said sounding annoyed. “And quite frankly my patience and my willingness to believe any more cockamamie stories about interrupted dinners, time vortexes and glowing light bulb is at an end. Now I want some answers and I want them now.”

“I’m afraid that may have to wait Captain,” Beverly interrupted. “My patients blood pressure is through the roof and his ox sat is too low – if he doesn’t get some rest soon, he may do himself some lasting and potentially serious damage.”

“Doctor, whilst I understand that your first concern must be your patient, my first concern however is everyone aboard this ship up to and including your patient. I am seriously concerned that if we don’t start getting some answers to some questions very soon, then there may not be a potential future left for any of us.” Picard said heatedly.

“The Captain is quite correct,” Data added. “There have been many strange electrical disturbances aboard this ship ever since your patient was brought on board. And whilst it is true that he was unconscious at the time of the first occurrence, his unconsciousness may very well be the cause of our problems, we cannot simply overlook the matter. If he is as fatigued as you say, then he could very well be a danger to this ship and everyone aboard it.

“Which is why he could have been jettisoned into space in the first place,” Picard suggested.

“An interesting hypothesis, and one we really do not wish to test at this moment in time; unless we are given no choice. To date, the faults have remained confined to the _Enterprises_ secondary or sub systems, however with the level of aggression and intractability that the Daleks have shown upon our first meeting, we are all in grave danger.” Data concluded.

Avon had listened to Picard’s speech with cool disdain. He was well aware that he was not the course of the ships malfunctions, that was down to Orac, and he had no intention of telling anyone, not even with the new threat of the Daleks, until the question of his own survival appeared to be at stake – and Donna gave him a very large poke in the ribs, which hurt more than it should.

Just as Picard and Data had spoken to Crusher as if Avon were not in the room, Donna now spoke to Avon in much the same manner.

“You’ve got to tell them what you told me, what he told me,” she whispered loudly drawing close to Avon.

“It,” Avon corrected irritably. “It’s an it not a he.”

“Well I don’t care what or who it is, we need to say something. We haven’t done anything wrong.” Donna said firmly. 

“I don’t see why…”

“Then you’re a bigger dumbo than I thought. The Doctor is all about people working together and helping each other out, and that’s what we’ve got to do now. We shouldn’t be scrapping with each other but working to solve what’s going on, and how we can get home; you do want to go home don’t you? Cos I most certainly do sunshine, I can tell you that!”

Picard and Data had stopped talking to listen to Donna berating Avon. It was obvious that they did know more than they were telling.

“Do please go on,” Picard said mildly into the silence when Donna finished speaking.

Donna nudged Avon again.

“Well now, all you needed to do was ask nicely,” Avon said and smiled, which was disconcerting. “What is it that you wish to know?”

“How do you get in touch with your friends out there?” Picard said immediately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, unless the _Liberator_ has returned.”

“That’s what she’s called, the _Liberator_? And Dalek Caan is what, your First Officer, your Captain?”

“I haven’t a clue who this Dalek Caan person is as I have stated already. The _Liberator_ is captained by Roj Blake.”

“Then who is Dalek Caan?”

“Captain, perhaps I can help,” Data suggested. “Data to Bridge, please can you relay the image from the main view screen down to Isolation Room 1.”

All eyes turned toward the screen across the room from Avon, which switched from showing several medical charts to the image of the Dalek saucers a short distance away from and surrounding the _Enterprise_.

“Well now, That’s certainly not the _Liberator_,” Avon said immediately.

“You’re quite certain?”

Avon fixed Picard with a look. “I think I’m doing well enough to know my own ship, whatever your Doctor may say about my condition.”

“And you?” Picard said looking at Donna.

Who shook her head. “No me neither… that’s not the Tardis, or should I say, they’re not. I’ve not seen something like that before, and I’ve seen some things in my time with the Doctor let me tell you.”

“I don’t doubt,” Picard said dryly. “Well, if you’re both telling the truth, then we’ve got bigger problems then the two of you to contend with. Thank you for your time. I’ll leave you to your patients Doctor,” Picard said turning on his heal ready and left the room.

Data turned to look at Avon. “You have built the transceiver to contact your ship, the _Liberator_,” he said carefully.

Avon nodded. “That much is evident yes.”

“It would also seem fair to say that you have been unable to do so.”

“Again, as you say.”

Data opened his mouth to say something, then thought about it some more and shut it again, before continuing to think at lighting speed, so his hesitation lasted only a few moments. “Once this crisis has past, the _Enterprise_ has a infinitely more powerful subspace communication assembly than the one you are attempting to construct. If you are aware of the bandwidth on which your ship transmits, I would be happy to assist you.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you Mr….” Donna said warmly.

“Data,” Data supplied with a slight inclination of his head.

“As in a Data chip,” Donna suggested, somewhat amused by the name. “I suppose you’re good with computers then… so what is your name really?”

“It really is Data, and if I’m understanding your inference correctly, then yes, I am “good with computers” as you put it. I am sorry, but I really must be getting on now.” Data replied politely, having heard similar statements many times over.

“Thank you anyway,” Donna smiled.

“It’s time for you to leave too,” Crusher told Donna. “My patient really does need to rest. I’ll see about getting a guest quarters assigned to you so you don’t have to hang around here all day as well.”

“Bridge to Sickbay, do you have the Captain?” Lt Marksham asked in measured tones, only a faint hint of stress in his voice.

“No, the Captain left sick bay just a moment ago,” Data responded immediately. “He should have answered his hail.”

“Well he hasn’t. What should we do?”

“One moment please, stand by. Commander Data to Captain Picard,” Data said tapping his combadge. “Captain Picard respond please.”

Donna and Avon looked at each other. Both were wondering the same thing.

“Data to Captain Picard, if you are able to hear me, please respond by going to the nearest communication station.” Data tried.

“Commander, I’m sorry to interrupt you again,” Lt Marksham stated, “But I really could do with some assistance here.”

“How may I help you Lieutenant,” Data suggested. “Have the Dalek ships decided to …”

“No sir, it’s nothing like that. It’s that anomaly sir, the one we’ve been studying…. It’s just trebled in size.”

Riker had slept poorly, tossing and turning throughout the night, thinking of, and then discarding one plan after another. He was also growing more worried than he cared to admit. Even if there had been a problem with the main transporter, the _Enterprise_ had several others to choose from. The thought that _all _the transporters had chosen to malfunction at the same time was unconscionable. It pointed to huge system failures, in fact nothing short of catastrophic. Had the anomaly had anything to do with it? Had the man they’d rescued? He’d appeared to be badly injured, but Riker knew all too well how quickly things could change aboard a ship. Had he just been faking his injuries and now had somehow taken the _Enterprise_ hostage?

Which ever way he looked at it, Riker should only have been left kicking his heels for a couple of hours on the planets surface, until either the transporter were fixed or until a shuttle came down to pick him. For neither of those methods of transportation to happen, for him to have spent the night on the planet and out of contact with his ship, something must be badly wrong.

Riker was tense but focussed, he knew needed to find some way to get back to his ship, if not contact her somehow. Finally in the early hours of the morning, he decided that his best bet might be to go topside once it was daylight, and see if he could salvage something of the ship Sleer had landed in, perhaps she’d have a working FTL radio. Or perhaps there were other escape pod survivors, scattered not too far distance, and one of those could help.

If he had but known it, Servalan’s thoughts were running in much the same direction.

She had slept far better than she’d expected; her leg still hurt, but she was determined to ignore it, treating it as a mere inconvenience than anything else. She’d risen early, taken a surprisingly refreshing shower, changed into another set of borrowed clothing from Dayna, this time a dark blue jump suit with a silver belt, padded shoulders and puff sleeves caught at the wrist.

Servalan was already in the small family dining room when Riker appeared. She had been sitting down, but rose to her feet as soon as he appeared, to take the breakfast bowls from a surprised Iesha so she could help her lay the table and look busy and engaged.

“Thank you,” the young girl smiled gratefully, not guessing Servalan’s motive.

Riker took the bowls from Servalan as she limped past him, determined to act normally and be chivalrous, to the ‘damsel in destress’, which was how he thought of Servalan. “Good morning, I hope you slept well. But you need to sit down and stay off that leg of yours, and rest it while you can,” he said with mock severity.

Servalan smiled prettily at him. “Thankyou for being so gallant,” she said putting one of her now free hands over his arm and squeezing it slightly. “It’s such a pleasure to meet a proper gentleman.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Riker said feeling a touch embarrassed at the woman’s obvious gratitude.

Dayna chose that moment to enter the room, and noticing the supposed intimacy, frowned. “I thought it would be a good idea if we go topside after breakfast and see if we can’t find a way to contact both your ships. You both must be very anxious to get home?” she said with forced cheerfulness, but determination to keep the two of them separated if she could. She didn’t know why, but she wasn’t terribly struck by Servalan.

“I am,” Riker said simply. “I’ve been out of contact for longer than I wanted to be.”

“Oh now surely not, you must be allowed some shore leave?” Servalan said pouting prettily.

“Scheduled shore leave yes, unscheduled shore leave, does nothing for me.”

“You don’t play a little truant now and then?” Servalan said smiling.

Riker grinned in response, understanding perfectly well what Sleer was suggesting. 

“Ah, then you have someone glamourous waiting for you?”

Riker smiled. “As a matter of fact I do,” he agreed thinking of the _Enterprise,_ “She’s quite a lady.”

“Then she’s very lucky.”

“Orange juice?” Dayna said physically coming between Riker and Servalan so she could put the jug on the table, a deliberate ploy, since she could easily have walked round them to put it down.

“Yes of course, thank you so much for providing a further meal for us, you’re really very kind,” Servalan said sweetly.

Dayna scowled. There was something about the older woman that she really didn’t like. “Sit down, I’ll bring you your meal,” she said a touch sulkily, turning to leave.

Dayna had barely left the room however, when there came the muffled sound of a massive explosion, large enough to cause the sunken space station to vibrate softly on the ocean floor.

“What the hell was that!” Riker said, immediately forgetting the slight flirtation he’d been having with Servalan.

“It sounded like an explosion,” Servalan replied also no longer interested in banter. “Is there any way we can find out?”

“Hal has several view screens, we were watching the natives unsuccessfully attempt to enter one of this places air locks yesterday.”

“How fortunate.”

Riker looked at Sleer.

“That they didn’t get in,” Servalan said rolling her eyes. “I was unconscious remember, which way?”

With a curt nod Riker walked past Servalan but stopped in the doorway to ensure that she would follow.

A second explosion, had them both forgetting that curtesy however as the space station shifted a small amount on the sandy bottom of the seabed.

The small control room had several working screens. Three of them showed nothing out of the ordinary, but the fourth showed huge flames on the top of the cliffs where the Away Team had rescued Avon yesterday. As Riker and Servalan joined the Melanby family to stare at the screens in disbelief, the sickly green light from a particle beam weapon sliced through the air as a couple of small circular space craft came into view, skimming the tops of the cliff face to rain fire above, cutting down Sarran riders and horses alike, as well as destroying several buildings, clearing a space big enough to act as a landing zone where they could establish a base and then start quelling and rounding up the natives.

“Who the devil are they?” Riker asked outload, wondering if the _Enterprise _were caught up in the same surprise attack. “I thought you said the natives not advanced much above the bronze age.”

“They’re not,” Hal said, pressing a few buttons and changing the view to show another pair of Dalek saucers firing along the beach at the fleeing people. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“They’re not another group from elsewhere on this planet?”

“No, I’ve told you, I don’t know who they are.”

“Raiders from another planet?”

“They could be… but we haven’t ever been attacked before.”

“What never?”

“Not by them, the natives yes, a few times as you’ve seen.”

Riker turned to look at Sleer, but she looked as shocked as he was. “Have you?”

“No. As you know the Federation has recently had a few… shall we say troubles… with our nearest neighbours, a territorial dispute, nothing major.”

Taking Servalan’s words at face value Riker nodded, until Hal turned briefly to look at his guests. “Our nearest neighbours nearly wiped us out,” he said directly. “It took nearly three quarters of Federation Fleet to wipe out the Andromedans – we nearly didn’t make it, I’d hardly call that nothing major.”

“But we won, didn’t we?”

“We did, but at what cost, the lives…”

“The lives being lost here too…” Riker interrupted. “You’re sure they’re not your Andromedan ‘friends’ ?”

“I’m quite sure thank you,” Servalan said glaring at Hal.

“Then the question remains who the hell are they? And… how can we get hold of one of their ships?”

\+ I am picking up a distress call. + Zen intoned unexpectedly.

“Course and heading?” Tarrant asked immediately.

Zen ignored the question.

“Let us hear it,” Cally instructed.

“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! Can anyone hear me? My ship is loosing power. I’m down to 15% oxygen and have only enough hour for one, maybe two more hours…. Please can anyone help me…?”

“Before you answer that, perhaps you would be kind enough to ask on what course and heading?” Tarrant said sounding annoyed. The Liberator’s computer was only following Cally’s commands, and as yet, Cally hadn’t seen fit to instruct Zen to listen to and obey either Worf or Tarrant. It was beginning to grate on Del’s nerves.

“Zen, what course and heading?”

\+ Bearing 140 Mark 340° +

“If we move to intercept, we will almost be turning back on ourselves,” Worf said firmly.

“But we cannot ignore a ship in trouble,” Cally responded.

“No, I suppose not,” Worf agreed reluctantly.

“We should at least get a visual on them, make sure it isn’t an Andromedian trap of some kind?” Tarrant suggested.

“Yes, that is a good idea,” Worf agreed.

Cally nodded. “Zen can you give me a visual on the ship. Do they have viewscreen capabilities?”

\+ Confirmed. +

The image on the front view screen changed from the moving star field to show a small copper coloured ship with streaks of green rust and or corrosion streaking down the craft’s side. Then the view changed again to show the cramped interior of the craft, smoke wafting heavily around the cabin. Pale blonde hair atop a soot and grime streaked face blinked back at them.

“Thank goodness, can you help me. My engines are dying, my oxygen is really low…” the young man said obviously trying to control his panic.

“How may we be of assistance? Where is the rest of your crew?”

“There’s only me.”

“I take it you came across the Andromedans, and came off worse for it?” Tarrant asked.

“What? Oh yes, yes of course, please help.”

“We shall,” Cally said firmly. “Stand by, we’ll use our tractor beam to…”

“You’ll likely crush his ship if you try to bring him in on automatics,” Tarrant said quickly.

“I concur,” Worf agreed. “His ship needs gentle handling.”

Cally looked at them both, while the man on the screen just stared at them all with pleading eyes. Abruptly Cally made up her mind. “Very well. Zen release manual control to Tarrant so he may bring the ship aboard.”

\+ Confirmed. +

“Oh thank you, you won’t regret it….” The young man said gratefully.

“I will send a couple of my men down to the hangar deck for security,” Worf said firmly.

Cally nodded. “Thank you, that would be helpful,” she agreed, before turning to the young man once more. She was able to sense nothing from him other than fear and panic. “Do you have a name?”

“I do, Alexander Aloysius Fenton Mudd, at your service ma’am.”

“I rather thought you were at ours,” Tarrant said dryly taking the helm controls to bring the ship in.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while - ongoing saga with cat and the holidays. I hope everyone has had a lovely time. Happy New Year too, and all the best for 2020 - will try to go back to posting once a week now. And yes this story does have a definite end... maybe....LOL

Deva and Payton had ducked into the first room available as the initial explosion rumbled through the building, Payton every bit as good as opening locked doors as was Vila with the right set of circumstances. The room they’d chosen to hide in would have been large, if not for the masses of computer banks. The duo smiled grimly at their luck as they’d inadvertently managed to find the main control room, and it was completely deserted, so they set to work.

Another explosion shook the floor and racks the computers were standing on, plaster rained down from the ceiling as one of Avalon’s charges went off prematurely, jolted by Blake’s attempt to take out a Borg soldier in the laboratory they’d come to.

“Quick, set the timers then let us get out of here,” Deva advised Paton. “It’s obvious things are not going to plan, but we still need to level as much of this place as we can.”

“Agreed,” Payton said taking out an explosive and setting the timer. “Five minutes enough do you think?”

“As long as we don’t get caught by anyone. Better give us a couple more.”

Quickly and efficiently Deva and Payton set their charges, then quickly left the room, moving onto the next one. Ducking their head inside they saw it was a rec room of some sort. Chairs and tables pushed back in a disorderly fashion, food, drinks, and games abandoned as the Borg attack came out of the blue.

“Just one in here, that should level the room nicely,” Deva commented ducking inside. “You open up the next one.”

Payton nodded, moving quickly to the door on the opposite side of the corridor just as it was blasted from the inside by a paragun. Payton didn’t stand a chance, as the Federation trooper defending the room, came out with a roar of rage, shooting blindly, having already seen what the Borg were capable of, and mistaking the rebels for another Borg soldier.

Deva, hidden from immediate sight, swallowed and grit his teeth, setting the explosive charge grimly, before flatting himself against the wall. Advancing towards the doorway, his weapon drawn in anticipation, Deva counted to three then rushed the doorway quickly. Just as the trooper had downed Payton with a single shot, Deva returned the favour and caught the trooper unawares. Without so much as a glance at the dead trooper, Deva bent down briefly to touch Payton in a silent goodbye. The two had been friends for many years, and had survived many campaigns together.

At Deva’s touch, Payton opened his eyes and groaned.

Deva did a double-take. “I thought you were dead.”

Payton drew a breath he didn’t want to take and swallowed. “Not quite yet… My side…” he whispered hoarsely. The troupers shot had indeed been wild. He’d hit Payton, just above his left hip, rather than a full-body shot which would have killed him immediately.

Deva looked at the wound, it had been more of a glancing shot, slanting diagonally across Payton, rather than through him. It was bleeding profusely, however, which was more of a problem than anything else. Quickly reaching in the bag he’d been carrying, Deva reached for the sparse medical supplies one member of each team had been carrying, Deva taking team three’s supply when he and Payton had split from Blake, Docholli and Moss. The medical equipment consisting of a can of spray-on plaster, that hardened almost immediately. 

“This might sting a bit,” he suggested giving Payton no further warning and ignoring the swearing which followed. “We need to give that a few moments to set, then get you out of here. Meet up with Fargus, while I set the rest of the charges.”

“No need, I’ll be fine, no argument,” Payton suggested, struggling to sit upright and swearing as molten fire cut through his middle, he paused on his elbows. “Though it might take a little time...” The sound of marching boots coming towards them, decided him, however, gritting his teeth and sweating, though no longer swearing out loud, with Deva’s help they both managed to struggle through the doorway to the room where the trooper had been as a group of six Borg strode past, a cluster of newly made mutoids in their middle being herded along like sheep.

“I thought you said something about time,” Deva whispered.

“It’s amazing what a little motivation will do,” Payton deadpanned back. “Where are they taking them I wonder?” he continued out loud, curious, but also thinking of anything to distract himself from the growing discomfort.

“As long as we don’t end up there too, I don’t care. Back to their ship, perhaps?” Deva suggested. “And I think we should make our way back out of here too. We can set our remaining charges as we go in any room we find. Avalon’s instructions were to meet back at our ship if anything went wrong.”

“What about Docholli, Blake and Moss?”

“They’ll either be there, or they wont…. Come on, we need to leave now….”

Avalon threw the last of her charges, timer already set, through the doorway to the building she’d just run through and made a dash across the tarmac towards a gap in the perimeter fence. There were many gaps in the fence now, the mutoid factory being completely overrun by the Borg, mostly dead Federation troopers laying scattered around where they’d failed to repel the invaders.

A group of six Borg, escorting a tight formation of new mutoids past her close by. The mutoids all turned to look in her direction, but the Borg seemed to ignore her since she was no longer carrying any weapons and running away from the building which they now controlled. Just for a split second, Avalon swore she saw the look of fear on one of the mutoids faces, and new their conditioning had yet to be complete. For a split second Avalon considered a certain suicide run towards the Borg, but realised there was nothing she could do against six of them, other than die needlessly.

Fargus looked round the scared faces of the dozen or so children that he had rescued. Most were young teens or younger. A couple of the younger ones were sitting close to his pilot who was looking decidedly uncomfortable to be the de facto mother figure.

“I don’t see how we’re going to get them out of here,” Jen whispered to Fargus. “We’ve not got our transporter any longer and there are too many of them to fit into the rest of our ships.”

Beside her, one of the young girls began to cry.

“We’ll think of something,” Fargus said firmly. “We are not leaving them here.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” Jen said patting the young girl awkwardly, “But we do need to think of something and fast. By now Avalon and the rest of them should have finished setting the charges. The factory is going to go up in a little while, goodness knows what those creatures will do then.”

Fargus shrugged. “Something will turn up, it always does,” he said, not willing to admit how scared he was feeling too. “Avalon will find a way out of here, she always does.”

“Avalon’s not invincible you know,” Jen replied with a sigh. “She’s been captured before…”

“And escaped..”

“She was rescued, she didn’t escape.”

“So you say…”

“So I know…”

Moss was finding walking more difficult than he wanted to admit. With no medical kit, just a rough tourniquet around his leg, he continued to lose blood; the clothing on his leg now soaked in it, leaving a red smeary trail across the floor as he was helped along by Docholli and Blake.

As a surgeon, Docholli was growing ever concerned. He’d let Deva carry the medical kit since it was an odd shape to carry, but was bitterly regretting the decision now. The average person only had about 5 litres of blood in their body; if Moss didn’t rest soon, he would go into cardiac arrest as he was losing too much.

“How much further…?” Moss mumbled as he was rested up against the wall as they came to an intersection and Blake decided to scout ahead.

“Not much, we’re back in the corridor by the storage facility,” Blake reported returning just in time.

“Didn’t we set a couple of charges in there?” Docholli frowned.

“We did, which is why we need to move...”

Avalon reached the treeline, throwing herself flat against the ground as a whump of the last of her explosives went up, raining debris and dirt all around her. Fresh alarms flared into life against the backdrop of the now-familiar flames. Avalon sat up cautiously after a few moments, turning to look at the destruction she had caused. There was now a huge chunk taken out of the side of the building, and as she watched, Avalon could see the first stirrings of the Borg as they moved to investigate the new site. She needed to get out of there fast.

Avalon practically crawled towards the trees, never taking her eyes off the factory before her. A voice whispering in her left ear came as a shock, therefore.

“Are you one of us?”

Avalon stared mutely at the trees until a skinny boy of about 12 slowly appeared.

“Fargus set me to keep watch,” the boy suggested.

Avalon nodded, breathing in relief. “I’m a friend,” she said slowly. “Can you take me to him?”

“I’m supposed to remain on watch… but if you go that way,” he said pointing to his left and behind him, “you should find them pretty quickly.

“Have you found anyone else?”

“Not yet… them things…. They’re everywhere. One of them killed our guards… except they didn’t do it properly, one of the guards got off a shot and killed them back. One of your people found us and took us into the woods. It’s safe enough here, at least no one has come looking for us yet…”

“Let’s hope they don’t,” Avalon said grimly. “Thank you, stay here and keep watch, there may be others… I’ll come back for you when we’re due to leave.”

“Sure…”

Limping out of the building, Payton and Deva were thrown hard against each other as Avalon’s huge explosion ripped through the building with a concussive force of 10 pounds per square inch (69 kPa). Fortunately they were not that close to the blast, and had several reinforced walls between them. Payton had already been leaning against a wall so could go no further as the shock wave passed through and over them. Rubble and dust rained down around them, as a Federation troopers hat came to land at their feet.

“One of us needs to go on a diet,” Payton offered through the dust and pain of a couple of cracked ribs.

Pushing away from his friend with a groan, Deva patted himself down cautiously; the blast had been enormous and he felt bruised all over. “One of us should be thankful he didn’t… extra padding you know.”

Payton gave a short bark of laughter that could have been a groan.

“Come, on, let's get out of here, while we still can.”

Leaving Lieutenant’s Towson and Portman on the bridge of the _Liberator_ under the watchful eye of Zen, Cally, champing at the bit to get going and find Blake, accompanied by Tarrant, Worf and D’Son, entered the main hangar bay. Nestled almost dead centre in a transfer cradle was the still lightly steaming copper vessel Zen had transferred internally once Tarrant had brought it on board.

“Well even if I do say so myself, that was a good piece of flying there,” Tarrant said grinning and flexing his fingers.

“Yes, you performed your task admirably,” Worf agreed, his tricorder already out and scanning the rescued ship that looked little more than a short range planet hopper. “I am reading…. Several life signs…” he said, immediately reaching for his weapon. “One is human… the other/s … I can not determine.”

D’Son and Tarrant had drawn their weapons at the same time as Worf, only Cally remained unarmed.

“Stand back,” Worf advised her. “We do not yet know if they are hostile…”

Cally, who had been listening mentally to the stranger since the first minute he’d been announced by Zen shook her head. “No, I do not think so,”

“How can you be so sure?” Worf questioned.

Cally looked at the big Klingon and tiled her head fractionally. _“This is how.”_ she projected.

“You’re a telepath,” Worf said surprised.

Without breaking her eye contact with Worf, Cally thought towards D’Son. _“You didn’t tell him?”_

D’Son’s brief smile acknowledged the thought. _“I saw no need!”_

_“You are a very unusual human!”_

D’Son smiled faintly.

Worf cleared his throat, which seemed to echo pointedly through the hangar deck. “Lieutenant, when you are ready, you may open the outer hatch, and see if our guest needs any assistance,” he said firmly.

Giving Worf a look which acknowledged the reprimand, D’Son walked forward and up the short flight of steps to the cradle’s platform, positioned for easy access to the space hopper, where he used the butt of his gun to tap firmly on the hull. The hatch lock turned almost immediately, opening inwards.

“Hello, hello, I can’t thank you enough for coming to my rescue when you did,” Alexander Mudd said quickly exiting from his ship and shutting the door behind him. “I really thought my chips were up then, you can only go so far before your luck runs out, isn’t that what they say?”

“Yeah, I guess,” D’Son ventured, quite taken aback by the man’s chatty nature. Mudd was very tall, very thin, very blond with very pale blue eyes, and the Lieutenant thought that ‘very’ was probably a good way to describe the young man. “Are you injured at all?”

“No, no, not at all. I can’t say the same thing about my ship of course. But still, I’ve been rescued so that’s alright. Say this is a very big ship isn’t it?” 

“It is,” D’Son agreed, gesturing for Mudd to precede him down the stairs.

“Wow look I’m honoured that you’ve all come out to meet me, but you really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

“You sent a mayday distress call and your ship is in poor shape, we didn’t know if the same was to be said for you.” Cally said evenly, somewhat put out by the cavalier attitude.

“Well, jut thank you, you know. Seriously, how can I ever repay you, I am in your debt lovely maiden.”

Worf stepped round Cally, his demeanour far more down to earth. “Our tricorder is picking up several life forms emanating from your ship,” he said directly. “Do you have any other passengers with you? The life signs are not human.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, forget about that,” Alex said dismissively.

Worf glowered. “What is nothing?

“Really it’s……”

“Lieutenant Towson, to Worf.”

“Go ahead.”

“The Zen computer has just issued a warning. We are being attacked by two craft which it identifies as Andromedan, one of which is on an direct intercept course with us.”

While Towson was speaking however, the ship rocked as a Andromedan energy beam just about managed to graze one of Zen’s power banks.

“I say, your man is a little late with his warning,” Mudd complained, as Tarrant prevented him from falling into Cally.

Cally ignored Mudd as well, drawing closer to Worf, so his combadge would pick up her voice. “Zen this is Cally, evasive manoeuvres immediately.”

\+ Confirmed. +

The _Liberator_ rocked far harder a second time as the other Andromedan ship fired its own weapon, just grazing the _Liberator, _causing the crew to tumble about_. _Pushing off from various barrels and railings, and other bits of equipment now scattered around the loading bay, Cally, Tarrant, Worf, D’Son and Mudd set off at a run for the bridge.

“We’re in no fit state to withstand a pounding,” Tarrant said as they sped through several corridors. “I’m, the best damn pilot I know. Cally release the _Liberators_ flight control to me, or we might not survive a third hit.”

Cally nodded as they raced round a corner and up the short flight of steps leading to the flight deck. “Yes, all right,” she agreed. “Worf will you be able to assist Tarrant?”

“I am the Chief of Security for the _Enterprise, _I am confident I can handle this ships weapons to your satisfaction.” Worf said firmly.

“And your people?”

“Ready and able to assist ma’am.”

“I’m no ma’am, my name is Cally, but I appreciate your help.” Cally said with a smile. “Zen, you will recognise the people on the bridge during this battle and take commands with them as you would from _Liberator _crew.”

\+ Confirmed +

“Right.” Tarrant said taking up stance in the pilots seat. “Let’s see what this ship really can do. Zen I want you to execute a parabolic orbit around the second invader on my mark, when they are no closer than 12 cubic spatial’s. Worf you need to prepare a spread of weapons as we hit the zenith. Who ever is on the shields raise the force walls now for goodness sake, but prepare to take them down when I give the order to fire.”

“Zen what is the energy levels in the power banks?”

\+ Banks 1 and 2 are showing full charge, bank 3 is three-quarters, bank 4 is depleted. +

“In other words, we need to make a stand and kill them off quickly. Mark Zen, execute now…”

As graceful as swan, the _Liberator_ surged forward in a graceful arch around the second ship, seemingly ignoring the more immanent threat of the first.

“Lower our energy shields…”

“Shields lowered.”

\+ Incoming plasma bolt launched. +

“Fire photon torpedoes now Mr Worf.”

“Firing now. Missiles away…”

“Raise forcewall, maximum deflection,” Tarrant said firmly.

“Shields up,” Towson called out.

A massive explosion caused the _Liberator’s_ view screen to flare bright glaring white as the ship rocked in the aftershock of a massive shock wave, until Zen corrected both of the events and the screen went back to normal, while Tarrant and the _Liberator s_ailed through the remnants of the alien craft.

“180° about turn,” Tarrant called out. “We’re going to use the blind spot created by the debris to accelerate past them, break hard, role and come up under them,” he said matching his course and speed corrections to his words. “Mr Worf, engage full spread of photons, prepare to launch on my mark. Zen as soon as Worf has launched the weapons I want you to take us straight up 90° speed maximum setting. Get ready to drop the forcewall… now… Mr Worf if you’d be so kind….. Zen get us out of here….”

Seconds before the _Liberator_ would have collided with the first alien craft, the ship exploded and the _Liberator _sailed clear. 

“Come about all stop.” Tarrant said with a grin. “And that’s how you do it folks, don’t all rush to thank me at once!”

Worf scowled. “Is it just me, or did that appear a little too easy?” he said suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” Cally asked. “The _Liberator_ was clearly a superior vessel.”

“Yes, and yet. From what you have told me, you both barely escaped with your lives last time.”

“That is true,” Cally agreed.

“Yes but they didn’t have me flying her last time,” Tarrant said confidently. “With a ship like the _Liberator_ we would have won easily.”

“I can assure you that the _Liberator_ did fight in the last battle, we did not sit idly by. And Jenna was a really good pilot.”

“But she wasn’t me.”

“No, she wasn’t. She didn’t brag as much either. Those two ships were just stragglers, that is all.” Cally said clearly irritated.

“As you say…” Tarrant agreed trying to be consolatory, feeling he had made his point.

“And yet,” Worf said slowly. “Did you happen to notice, that for stragglers, the vessels we encountered did not appear to have any battle damage. Nor did they appear to move very quickly. It’s almost as if they were being controlled…”

“Piloted, yes,” Tarrant suggested.

“No, it is not that.”

Cally drew a breath. “Let’s settle this one way or another shall we, then perhaps we can go and find Blake. Zen are there any other ships in the area?” She asked, looking at the viewscreen. To the left was the plant they’d been passing by when the two alien ships had struck, but to the front and right there was nothing other than a clear star field.

\+ Background radiation from the planetary body we are passing makes detection difficult. +

It was now Cally’s turn to frown.

“I think we should raise the force wall just to be on the safe side maybe?” she said sounding a little unsure.

Tarrant wiped his hands together. “Do you really think that’s necessary? What do you think Mudd? Were they friends of your? You were part of a little ruse maybe? A trap for some unsuspecting traveller?”

Mudd, who had kept very quiet on the sofa during the brief skirmish, stood and turned to face Tarrant. “No of course not. I had no idea they were out there, you saw the condition of my ship, I wouldn’t have lasted more than an hour at most…”

“Plenty long enough for your trap to be sprung, or for your friends to rescue you perhaps?”

“No, I swear, they were nothing to do with me. If you had not rescued me, then I would surely be dead by now if they were out there.”

Tarrant looked thoughtfully at the man. “Zen, are you able to run a parallax scan the plant we are passing?”

Zen remained silent.

“Cally?”

Drawing a breath, Cally looked at both Tarrant and Worf, so far they had proved themselves allies and useful.

“Zen. You will recognise commands from both Tarrant and Worf as you would do any other _Liberator_ crew member from this point on,” she said slowly.

“Thank you. Zen answer the question please?”

“I believe I already have the answer,” Worf said slowly, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “My scans are showing upwards of two dozen alien craft just past the event horizon of the plant.”

“What?”

“I do not believe they have seen us yet.”

“You think? We’d be dead if they had, they’re obviously waiting for us to draw closer,” Tarrant said walking over to look at Worf’s radar scan. “Zen put the information up on the main view screen. Suggestions anyone?”

“Where is the water coming from?” Servalan said looking at the rising water in annoyance.

“Father you have to look at this,” Dayna said cutting across the Supreme Commander, in fact completely ignoring her, as she walked into the control room holding aloft an electronic notepad.

Hal took the notepad from his daughter an switched on a remote access to allow his seeing eye device to link to the equipment so he could read the screen.

Riker watching both Hal and the carnage still going on outside, saw the older man frown. “What is it sir?” he asked quietly

“The explosions have caused the seal in the outer hatch to rupture.”

“But we can fix it father, it’s not too bad,” Dayna said firmly.

“So we’re sinking?” Servalan said with a look of horror. Just like Avon, as most space travellers, she didn’t like water that much, feeling it was unnatural. “We need to leave immediately.”

“We’re already sitting on the seabed, so we’re not going to sink,” Dayna dismissed.

“But we can flood,” Riker countered. “How can I be of assistance? Do you have the equipment to seal the rupture?” 

“Yes, in the store room, Dayna can show you,” Hal said gratefully.

“Well I’m not going to sit here and wait to drown.” Servalan said firmly.

“Good, then you can help as well,” Riker said decisively. “The sooner we get the rupture repaired the better. Dayna show me what we need. This way…”

“No, I meant we need to leave here immediately?”

“Leave?”

“As in?”

Servalan pointed towards the ceiling.

Dayna snorted. “We are not going to abandon my home on your say so. We can stop the leak. And in case it’s escaped your notice, there are hostile invaders out there.”

“Then we will have to go round them?”

“And how do you propose that exactly?”

Dayna and Servalan squared off against each other.

Riker, already halfway out of the door towards the store room, stepped back inside. “Ladies please. We will all help to repair the hatchway and then we will all look to see how we can go about stealing or hitching a ride up to the _Enterprise_ in one of those spacecraft. Am I clear?”

“Good luck with that!” Servalan snorted.

“Does that mean you’re not going to help Sleer?”

“Steal a ship, yes I suppose, but as for making repairs, no, my leg is injured remember… the water may infect it...”

“Then you can stay and assist me here my dear,” Hal offered. “We’ll be their eyes and ears…”

Servalan started to speak, when another explosion, this one far too close to the Mellanby home, causing the ship to shift sideways violently with a rendering groan of warped metal. Servalan and Hal both lost their footing, while Dayna was thrown against Riker.

Moments later Ilesha’s scream echoed throughout the room.

Ilesha had gone with everyone else to the control room just in time to see the Dalek invaders blowing up the old warehouses at the top of the cliffs; but the images had scared her so she had gone back to the family dining room to finish eating her breakfast, pretending desperately that nothing was wrong.

The first explosion had caused her to hide under the table, where she had been sitting with her eyes tightly closed ever since, the raised step of the bulkhead door at the entrance of the room protecting her from the initial flood water that Servalan and the others had experienced. However in this latest blast from the Dalek weapons, the free standing shelf unit next to the table, which held books, a few knickknacks, china and a few supplies in the form of general condiments and the sort of bread they baked themselves, detached from the wall as the space station shuddered and came crashing down and partially through the dining room table, at the same time as a torrent of water gushed in from a crack in one of the outer walls.

Untangling themselves Dayna and Riker immediately rushed to Ilesha’s aid. The dining room was in complete chaos. “Ilesha where are you? Can you hear me? Are you hurt at all?” Dayna cried frantically.

Ilesha pushed at the chair in her way and waved her hand. “I’m over here. What happened? Are they firing on us too?”

“No, it was a near miss,” Riker said firmly. “If they’d hit us, we wouldn’t be around to talk about… ow, what was that for?”

“Sorry I didn’t realise you were there,” Dayna said glaring at Picard’s First Officer, and mouthing at him not to frighten her sister. “Stay where you are, we can see you and are coming get you out of there.”

“Are you trapped at all?”

“No, but I am wet, where is all this water coming from? I don’t like it.”

“We’ll get the pumps going soon, and fix things.”

“How?”

“We just will ok?”

“But you best be prepared to leave here for a while,” Riker said carefully. “Just while we make this place habitable again.

Ilesha thought about that, falling silent as Riker and Dayna worked their way quickly towards her, Riker eventually removing a chair and pulling her free. “There you are, not too bad was it? Are you hurt at all?”

“My arm hurts, but that’s all. If we have to leave, what about my studies? My books and everything… can I take them with me?”

Riker smiled. “It’s always good to see someone enjoying their studies, but I’m afraid in this case, no, it’s not going to be possible.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite su…”

Another explosion, this one deep inside the ship, not coming from the surface, caused all three to lose their footing. Helping Ilesha to her feet, all three of them now soaked, Riker and Dayna exchanged a glance. “We’re going to need to leave sooner rather than later. Given the er…situation outside, your father said you were good at inventing things?” he said referring to Dayna's love of building weapons.

Dayna understood the inference immediately. “I am, they’re kept not far from here, come on…” she said backing into the main corridor, hearing Riker and her sister slosh after her.

“And is there another way out of here?”

“There certainly is,” Hal called out from behind Riker. “If we leave through the starboard emergency exit that will take us to the base of the cliffs.”

“Will that be safe?” Servalan asked from behind him.

“I don’t think we’re going to have much choice,” Riker commented over the sound of more creaking metal. Looking down he winked at Ilesha. “Don’t worry, stay close to me, we’ll make sure we get out of here,” he promised.

“We need to take a left here,” Hal said moving into the corridor unerringly only to be stopped by a floating crate.

Riker pushed it out of his way, and took Ilesha’s hand, the young teenager not protesting. “Should we wait for Dayna?” he queried, looking back towards the junction of the corridor as Hal moved ahead once more.

“Don’t worry, she’ll catch us up. Dayna’s sensible,” Hal suggested.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Servalan pushed past Riker and Ilesha.

Riker caught hold of one of her arms and offered her a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good, keep moving forward and make sure you remove obstacles from our hosts way, he is the only one who knows how to get out of here,” he said firmly.

Servalan scowled until she remembered she was supposed to be playing nice, then smiled sweetly. “Of course, in the moment I was becoming quite panicky.” She offered.

“Which is understandable. Go now, we’ll be right behind you.”

Riker and Ilesha stood listening to the sound of Hal and Servalan’s splashes getting further and further away from them, the lights were now beginning to flicker and the water was now up to Ilesha’s knees and still rising. Mentally Riker counted down from 300, unwilling to remain where they stood for more than five minutes. 

“I wonder what’s holding up your sister?” he said conversationally to Ilesha.

“Do you think she’s all right?”

“Yes, but perhaps we should go and see if she needs a hand don’t you think?”

“The waters deeper that way.”

“Good point,” Riker said cheerfully, wondering if it would be safe to leave the girl where she was and look for her sister or not. “Maybe we should wait a little longer then?”

“But what if she needs help?”

“I’m sure sue doesn’t, but perhaps I should go and…”

“No, don’t leave me.”

The space station shuddered again, and one of the lights in the corridor went out.

Riker was contemplating his next move, when a light appeared from the corridor behind him.

“Sorry I took so long, I wanted to make sure I had everything,” Dayna said panting a bit, pushing a floating crate filled with tech in front of her, several weapons slung by their straps about her slim body.

“Yes, well, you were maybe cutting it a bit fine.”

“I know. Where’s father?”

“He’s gone ahead with Sleer,”

“What?”

“It was either that or we risked loosing you.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoys this next installment :-)

Captain Jean-Luc Picard strode onto the bridge of the _Enterprise_, completely unaware that there had been a call put out for him. The red alert beacons were flashing bright red and the alarm was sounding loudly.

“Will someone shut off that infernal noise. Report Lieutenant,” he said striding down to his command chair.

“Sir we tried hailing you,” Marksham reported immediately, unable to hide his relief that the captain was now present.

“Well obviously, it didn’t get through, more of those infernal glitches no doubt. I said turn the alarm off,” Picard said repeating himself loudly, “It’s impossible to think round here…” the last said after the alarm had finally been silenced. Picard tugged on his tunic. “Thank you. So please continue your report Mr Marksham, and will someone see how badly our communications are affected. Send a runner if you have to.”

“As you know, the science team has been monitoring the anomaly that first drew us to this sector. Lt Wright has been monitoring it through our recent troubles, and reports that is has just expanded rapidly by nearly a third.”

“What? Lt Wright how rapid was this expansion?” Picard said walking over to Opps.

“Within the space of a few minutes, it just kind of expanded outwards as if it had been held in stasis before, and someone had turned the stasis field off. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“In what direction did it expand?”

“All directions sir, more towards the planet than anywhere else, but it went both up down and out in every other direction too.”

“Is the planet in any danger?”

“I’m uncertain sir,”

“Is it continuing to expand?”

“No sir, it’s stopped again. It’s energy output has trebled too.”

“Are we in any danger where we are? Do we need to move into a higher orbit?”

“I don’t know sir.”

“Captain,” Marksham interrupted. “I’m sorry sir, but a Dalek shuttle has just launched from their main ship and is on an intercept course with the anomaly.”

“Ah, so they’re curious too.”

“What should we do sir?”

“Are we in any additional danger?”

“No sir, they don’t appear to be giving us any thought at all.”

“In which case we’ll watch and wait,” Picard said with some satisfaction. “Keep the Dalek ship on the main view screen Ensign Trent.”

“Yes sir.”

All eyes watched as the small circular Dalek scout craft drew closer to the golden, pinkish, shimmery misty light that was the anomaly, the scout craft was completely dwarfed by the anomaly, as it entered the first of the visible swirling eddies. The ship seemed to waver for a minute, then simply vanished. One minute it was there, and in the next it was gone.

“Sir,” Marksham started to say.

Picard held up a hand, studying the screen intently. “Wait,” he said softly.

Everyone stared a the screen, watching and waiting…. 

“Captain,” Lt Wright said breaking the silence. “There’s been an explosion just within the boundaries of the anomaly, on a 91.2° axis from the point of entry. Our sensors indicate, it is the remains of the Dalek shuttle.”

“Curiouser and Curiouser,” Picard mused and tapped his combadge. “Picard to Data.”

Silence met his request.

“Picard to Sickbay,”

“Sickbay, Crusher speaking. I’m glad they managed to find you captain,” Beverly said with evident relief.

“Thank you doctor, but I was not lost, it seems our comms are now subject to the same electrical failures that are plaguing the rest of the ship. Do you still have Mr Data with you?”

“No, he left a moment ago, heading for the bridge. Do you mean he’s not arrived.”

“No doubt he will shortly. I’m calling for an update on our guests, how are they doing?”

“I had one of my nurses take Miss Noble to a guest room, Avon is resting as comfortably as possible.”

“Good. I need Miss Noble brought to the bridge, and Avon stabilised so he can leave the confines of sickbay too.”

“I don’t…”

“Understood, your objections are noted, but I need you to get it done. Picard out.”

“What?! Why are we stopping? No… no… no, no, no, this can’t be happening… Come on… ol’ girl, don’t do this to me, not again!” The Doctor cried slapping the control panel in frustration as the Tardis started to wobble and then lurch before dropping out of the time vortex.

“I thought you said you’d fixed it?” Vila complained, he’d been grabbing hold of the railings around the time rota for dear life as the Tardis had started to fly through space, not feeling the exhilaration felt by Troi and the Doctor.

“Her,” The Doctor corrected automatically. “I had. The Tardis should be tracking the Aquitar signal from your ship or that friend of yours…”

“But we’re just as obviously not doing that,” Trio said sensibly. “Something must still be wrong.”

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, “What though? Think, come on, thinkity think… What am I missing?” The Doctor said looking off into the middle distance, going over his rebuild of the Tardis in his head to see if he’d left out any crucial link or connection. There had been no spare parts left over, which was always a good sign, but there was always a possibility that he could have missed one of the connections which the Tardis organically grew sometimes.

“I don’t know. But it might help if we knew where we are now,” Troi suggested.

“Yes, before we have another unannounced visitor,” Vila said dolefully.

“Do you have a way that you can see what’s going on outside?...... Doctor?”

Still deep in thought, with a start the Doctor realised he was being spoken to. “Sorry, what?”

“Do you have way we can see outside? A viewscreen perhaps?” Troy repeated carefully.

“Yes of course. Right here,” The Doctor said suiting his actions to his words and pulling round what looked like an ordinary computer screen to face him. “A couple of flips of this, a twist of that and… “

The image which appeared on the screen showed the Tardis hanging stationary in space, neatly parked in a geostationary orbit above a planet, to either side was a clear star field…

.. but straight ahead was a large cube shaped ship.

Deanna Troi drew a horrified breath. “No, it can’t be,” she whispered, taking a physical step back from the monitor.

“Eh, you know them then?” Vila asked.

“They’re call themselves the Borg, they almost destroyed the Federation, took Captain Picard hostage and are responsible for the deaths of millions. They assimilate any civilisation they come across. They have a hive mind,” Troi said, trying to sound dispassionate, but the quiver in her voice gave away her feelings, even if they hadn’t battered against the Doctors mind despite his mental shields. “Please we’ve got to help those poor people down there, Doctor please.”

The Doctor’s eyes gleamed. “Helping people, that’s me! That’s what I do best, whenever there’s people to help, I’m there, first in the que with my sonic screwdriver and my wits,” he said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood, which failed completely. One look at Troi’s horrified face and Vila’s incomprehensive expression, told him that his humour had fallen far short of the mark. The Doctor sighed. “Ok, first we need to find out if the planet has anyone living on it. We’re currently orbiting the dark side and I don’t see any visible lights on the planet's surface to see if there’s anyone who needs rescuing.”

Unseen Vila crossed his fingers behind his back that there wouldn’t be. He still had a rotten headache, and arm ache and he really didn’t want to get tangled up in someone else’s fight, not if he could help it, and only then if Blake and/or Avon really twisted his arm, after he’d had a solid nights sleep. “Let’s hope there’s no one down there then,” he offered. “Do these particular set of aliens like planets without people? Or perhaps the people have all managed to escape somehow… or they all blew themselves up… we encountered a planet where that actually happened you know – nothing left but ruins.”

Troi looked at Vila. The Tardis was hampering her abilities to read anyone outside it, but standing right next to Vila she could feel the waves of unhappiness and apprehension roiling around him, growing exponentially bigger with each moment.

“I would like to tell you to relax,” she told him, reaching out to lay a hand on his good shoulder, “but I can not. The Borg are powerful and virtually unstoppable. They are interested in not just people, but technology too – anything that can enhance their collective as they call themselves. If there are no people, but technology on the planet below, they will take what they need and destroy the rest.”

Vila swallowed. “I don’t think I like your bedside manner very much,” he complained.

“I find it is better to be truthful,” Troi responded.

While Deanna had been talking to Vila the Doctor had been busy scanning the planet’s surface for signs of life and/or civilization. The Tardis was easily able to penetrate through the atmosphere to the give a view of the world below. Most of it was undeveloped and fairly inhospitable looking. Oceans frozen over, and either dry dessert or else bitterly cold icy mountains in between. However the image soon changed from the views of the poles to the more temperate zones as the Tardis zeroed in on the mutoid factory.

The picture on the monitor screen was one of carnage and self evident destruction. The factory compound was on fire, flames and dense thick smoke belching and billowing from the half ruined buildings, black clad bodies lay scattered everywhere. It was obvious that they were too late to stop the massacre.

As the Doctor, Troi and Vila watched with mounting horror and dismay, a group of what looked like heavily augmented humanoids came into view, the weapons on their arms clearly visible as they shepherded a group of people out of the building towards a small cube ship.

“The Borg,” whispered Trio.

“Mutoids, that’s them other ones,” Vila added.

“We’ve got to help them,” Troi said firmly.

“You can’t help the Mutoids, they’re soulless, half dead already, closest thing to vampires now a days, they belong to the Federation.”

“There must be something that can be done,” Troi said desperately. “Not everyone down there can be mutoids… what about…”

“The Federation guards you mean, just as bad really…” Vila said dowerly.

“But who’s that…?” The Doctor asked pointing to a figure running across the screen. The person who had caught the Doctor’s attention wasn’t dressed in black or tones of dark grey like the Borg or mutoids, but in muted browns and greens, and they were clearly running away from the factory. “There’s other people down there,”

“Can you get a clearer picture?” Troi said drawing closer to the monitor once more.

Fiddling with a few of the Tardis’ toggle like switches, the Doctor did so, putting his glasses on and squinting at the screen as if that would help him. He managed to take a picture of a face, and the three of them stared at it in disbelief.

“There are children down there?” Vila said horrified.

“Can you scan for human lifeforms?” Troi asked.

“As opposed to? … Let me see… switching to infra red, we should be able to see heat signatures, does that help…?”

“Yes look,” Vila said excited, completely forgetting himself for a moment.

“The Borg and mutoids are cool, almost blue,” Troi offered in satisfaction. “Yes look at the difference, the young one is reddy orange. Can you sc…”

“Already doing it…” The Doctor agreed. “Yes, see, over there about ½ km from the buildings to the north west in the tree line… and a few more just below that.”

“We’re going to rescue them, yes?”

“Of course we are, as I said before, that’s what I do,” the Doctor grinned. And this time Troi smiled back. “Come on Vila, lets see some cheer from you too.”

“I would only… say, how do you land this thing…?”

“You hold on tight… I pull this, switch these, pump that – oh never mind, you’ll get the idea… here we go…”

With a grating, whirring noise like a broken violin, the Tardis dropped out of orbit and through the planet's atmosphere like a stone, to land with a bump and slight bounce and slight angle in clearing on the forest floor.

“Right then allons y,” the Doctor grinned, taking his coat from the railing behind him. “Let’s go.”

“But we’re unarmed, aren’t we going to get guns and things?” Vila asked hastily.

The Doctor turned on his heal to face Vila. “I don’t carry guns, nasty things, and while you’re with me, you won’t either. Besides, we’re not unarmed, I have my trusty screwdriver.”

It was the young children who were sitting round Jen who heard the strange noise first; loud enough to be heard over the cracking of flames and the falling of windows, door frames, the shattering of glass and the sound of energy beam fire.

The young girl still sitting with Jen pulled impatiently on her arm. “What’s that?”

Jen frowned at her. She was deep in the middle of a conversation with Avalon and Fargus, trying to come up with a plan to save both themselves and the children; and failing miserably. The Borg forces had overrun the mutoid factory and were even now mopping up the surviving Federation guards, doctor and lab techs and marching them off to their ship to be assimilated, whatever that was meant to mean.

“Not now, I’m busy,” Jen reacted firmly.

“No, you have to listen… what is it?” the girl persisted, still holding onto the pilot.

“I can’t hear anything. I’m busy, these are important discussions.”

“I can hear it,” the boy sitting next to the girl said loudly, he was an older boy of about 14 and his voice had just started to break.

Fargus frowned. “What does it sound like?”

“Something mechanical gone wrong,” the boy responded.

Frowning Avalon rose to her feet, drawing her weapon. “I hear it too, about 15 metres to the left of here at about 9 o’clock.

Fargus slowly got to his feet, as did Jen, both drawing their guns.

“You stay here with the kids,” Avalon told the pilot. “If anything should happen…”

“What’s going to happen?” the young girl asked.

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Fargus said with a whisper indicating he would go to his right, Avalon to the left. Moving as quietly as possible they stalked off into the trees.

“Orac was it you?” Donna asked, pressing the talky bit she’d seen Avon use. He’d palmed her the connection when it was clear that Dr Crusher was taking no chances with him and insisting he get some rest. Decisively taking to take the gadgets he’d made out of his reach.

Donna had allowed herself to be taken to a guest suite; all the while listening out for any bit of any information, no matter how trivial, which might help her get back to the Doctor, or further Avon’s call so he could assist her. The rooms she’d been given were spacious, clean and well lit. And came with a fabulous view of space and the planet below, which would have ordinarily fascinated Donna no end.

At that moment in time however, she had other things on her mind.

She had never met anyone like Avon. He was breathtakingly rude, infuriatingly arrogant, and would have been hailed as a genius by Donna, if she hadn’t met the Doctor first. He was, she allowed however, rather good with gadgets and a bit of a technical wiz. If he hadn’t been so busy being such an arse, she might even have quite fancied his brooding good looks.

As it was however, he was her partner in crime. In the few seconds they’d managed to get alone, he’d shared his theory that Orac was probably behind the electronic malfunctions happening all over the ship. Most didn’t concern Avon, but if the internal communications went down when they needed to stop the invading Dalek space ship, then no one would live long enough to tell the tale.

“Orac are you there? Damn it, have I even switched this thing on properly?” Donna swore to herself. “Perhaps I need to talk louder, ORAC, CAN YOU HEAR ME….?”

“Of course I can hear you, I’m not deaf you know. But I am extremely busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“That is none of your business, now if you would be so good as to let me get back to…”

“Hold up a minute sunshine. It’s what you’re about to get back to that has us worried,” Donna said firmly.

“Us?”

“Me and Avon.”

“What I am doing, is none of his business either. Now if you both would refrain from disturbing…”

“Avon’s not here,”

“Then I can’t see we have any further business, good day to you….” Orac said and made a strange whirring ping as if shutting down,

“Orac?

Silence greeted Donna’s last utterance. Donna sighed, and paced her suite a few times. “Why me?” she asked rhetorically, “Why is it always me? Very well….” Drawing a deep breath Donna bellowed Orac’s name at the top of her voice; only belatedly wondering if the room was soundproofed.

“What is it now? Will you please be quiet. You are well aware, as am I that Avon does not wish my discovery to be known. If you insist on making that dreadful caterwauling then I would not be surprised if the whole ship were not aware of my presence.”

“Then you need to listen to me. I have a message from Avon?”

“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

Donna sighed. “I give up.”

“A defeatist attitude will get you no where. Hurry up now, what is the message, I have things I need to get back to…”

“Do they involve tampering with the ships internal communications relays?”

“I thought them rather effective. I had to make several deters around the bio-coupling junctions and…”

“I take it, that’s a yes then,” Donna sighed sitting down.

“You may take it as an affirmative,” Orac agreed.

“Avon says you need to stop.”

“Stop? Why on earth should I want to do that?”

“He says, and I quote. If you don’t get that infernal machine to restore communications to this ship, then any response to the Daleks attack, when it happens, may well be delayed; fatally,”

“I am not an….”

The door chime to Donna’s suite sounded.

“One minute,” Donna called, looking panic stricken at the device she was holding. “I have to go, just do it ok?” she told Orac, switching off the communicator and stashing it in the pocket of her surgical coat. “Come in…”

“I’m sorry to disturb you Miss Noble, but the Captain requires your presence on the bridge. If you would come this way please ma’am?”

With the Doctor in the lead, Troi and Vila exited the Tardis, the Doctor carefully moving to stop the Tardis doors from shutting with a snap, so they did not announce their presence any further; an effort that was completely ruined by Vila taking a couple of steps forward and snapping twigs with each step.

“Have you never learned how to walk quietly?” the Doctor turned, giving Vila a frustrated look. “You can stay behind if you want to you know.”

“It’s not my fault I grew up in a Dome. I can’t stay in there alone, what if it flies off again without you, with just me in there…?”

The Doctor was about to give Vila a scathing reply, when he realised that with the way the Tardis was behaving the last couple of days, anything was possible. “Yes well, just do the best you can then. Tiptoe or something.”

“I don’t think it’s going to make any difference,” Troi said softly.

“Oh, and why is that? Oh, yes!” the Doctor agreed as both Fargus and Avalon came out from behind the trees from opposite sides of the clearing at the same time.

“Stay where you are, and stay very still. I warn you, we will not hesitate to shoot you,” Avalon said firmly.

Vila, who had been looking down at the ground looked up immediately at the sound of a familiar voice. “Wait no! Avalon, what are you doing here? It’s me Vila… remember me?” he said excitedly moving to stand in front of Troi and the Doctor.

“Vila, can you prove it’s really you?” Avalon said suspiciously.

“How would you like me to do that? We came here to rescue you and…”

“The _Liberator_ is in orbit?”

“Well no, but…”

Avalon’s gun, which had started to waver, was suddenly pointed at the dead centre of Vila’s chest.

The Doctor took a step forward, putting himself between Vila and the gun. “I’m the Doctor. I’m here to help. We saw the destruction of the buildings from orbit and came here looking for survivors.”

“I don’t know you. How do I know you’re not Federation?”

Vila stepped to one side round the Doctor. “Avalon, does he look like the Federation, really? He’s telling the truth too, he rescued me after I had to eject from the _Liberator_ in a life capsule after she was damaged in the battle with them aliens, surely you must of heard of it?”

Avalon drew a breath and lowered her gun. Everyone in the Federation was slowly becoming aware of the alien battle. “Yes, ok, I believe them,” she said to Fargus, indicating he should lower his as well. She’d heard the same story of needing to evacuate the _Liberator_ from Blake.

“How big is your ship, we rescued a dozen or so kids from the factory before they’d been turned into mutoids, and some of my teams have survived. Can you send another shuttle down to pick them all up?”

“Oh this is my ship,” the Doctor grinned. “But yes, I can take you all.”

Avalon looked at it rather suspiciously, it's rather small isn't it?"

The Doctor grinned. "Oh you'll be surprised. Just you wait."

“Is there anyone that needs medical attention. I’m a ships counsellor but I have had some medical training,” Troi offered carefully. She was finding it hard to get a precise fix on Avalon’s emotions, they were jumping about all over the place, a classic symptom of fatigue/shock.

“And you are? I don’t know you.”

“You can call me Deanna. What ages are the children you’ve rescued?”

“They range from about eight or nine, right up to thirteen or fourteen,” Fargus answered. “They’re with my pilot at the moment, not too far from here,” he said starting to walk towards the group they’d just left behind.

“I have a few of my best people still in the building, still trying to get out,” Avalon added, falling into step the other side of the Doctor.

“What were you doing there? Trying to blow it up I expect,” Vila said chattily, then turned to the Doctor. “Avalon’s one of the key leaders of the rebels. The Federation have an enormous price on her head.”

“Shut up Vila,” Avalon said firmly.

“Oh, don’t worry about the Doctor and Deanna, they’re not from around here, so they’ll not say anything to anyone.”

“Do be quiet Vila,” the Doctor said with a frown, ever since they’d landed he’d been getting a strong sensation of time being out of kilter, and various realities buffering against each other. He’d agreed to help without thinking about it, but something about this place was making him feel itchy and on edge.

“Well I like that…” Vila grumbled as they stepped from between the trees to another small clearing. “Some things never change do they?”

Fargus’ pilot turned away from the child she’d been talking to immediately, disbelief on her face.

“Jenna,” Vila said in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you? I never thought to see you in the thick of fighting?”

“Would you believe it, I’m here to rescue you, part of the rescue party see?”

Jenna Stannis laughed. “All right, so where is Avon? I can’t imagine he’s too pleased about coming to our rescue? Do you have enough bracelets with you?”

Vila’s face fell. “I haven’t seen Avon, and I’ve not come with the _Liberator_. I was rescued by the Doctor… His ship is big enough to take you all… Come on now, we’ve got to hurry.”

Jenna looked at Avalon. “He doesn’t know?”

Avalon shook her head. “I haven’t had the chance.”

“Blake’s inside.”

Vila did a double take. “Blake?”

“Yes, he’s inside, and half the buildings just collapsed. We can’t go just yet…”

“We saw it from space, nothing could have survived that.”

“I’m hoping you’re wrong, but we can’t go, until we know for certain. You do see that, don’t you?” Jenna asked turning toward the Doctor.

The Doctor met her concerned green eyed stare with sympathy. “We can probably afford to wait for a minute or too, while everyone comes aboard. Who is Blake, by the way?” he asked.

Jenna shot Vila a reproachful look. “You haven’t told him?”

“I’m the Doctor by the way,” the Doctor said holding out his hand.

Jenna shook it briefly. “Look, thanks’ for the rescue, you arrived in the nick of time,” she offered, before turning back to Vila. “Well?”

“There hasn’t been the time, honestly, and it’s not something you can drop into a casual conversation is it?”

“Blake is or Leader, more specifically the Leader of the _Liberator_, our captain one might say.” Jenna told the Doctor firmly.

“I wouldn’t, neither would Avon,” Vila disagreed. “But he’s in there?”

“Yes, unfortunately. And his comm has been silent for too long. Just after half the building collapsed.”

Riker, Ilesha and Dayna caught up with Hal and Servalan by the emergency airlock hatchway which would lead them out of the space station.

“The doorway is stuck, the locking mechanism has disengaged but I fear we are going to need brute strength in order to get it open,” Hal said breathlessly. From the state of his clothes, he was just as soaked as Riker, Dayna and Ilesha it was evident he had been trying to get the door open himself, where Servalan, dry, apart from the water up around her knees had just as obviously stood by and watched.

“Let me give you a hand sir,” Riker offered immediately, giving Servalan a hard look sloshing forward, while Dayna practically growled at the lack of help her father had received.

“Me too,” she added immediately. “I don’t know what you were thinking trying to open it all by yourself.”

It took the three of them a while to find the best place to gain purchase on the oval door, and then a good deal of physical exertion, mainly from Riker and Hal to prise the door even part way open. Immediately a gush of sandy coloured water flowed through, the force of it spraying the three of them from head to toe, drenching them once more.

Servalan had taken a couple of steps back and out of the way of the tidal flow, and spoke with a look of distaste on her face. “How vile! Is the tunnel flooded beyond the doorway do you think?” she queried.

Riker pushed his hair out of his eyes, he’d been standing closet to the gushing water, which had now slowed to a trickle, evening out even as he watched, and took a breath before he replied. “No, because it’s levelling off already. I think the bit that did get in was just where the space station has moved about a bit. I do think we need to get going quickly though, as she’s still obviously settling, going by the noise she’s still making.”

“Yes, I think so too,” Hal agreed. “Unless we’re hit again, the pressure will continue to build until it’s equalised. With the enormous amount of stress the hull is now under I fear that will not happen until she floods completely. I hope not, but with no way of making any repairs, I feel our home will be underwater in every meaning of the word quite quickly now. All my research is of course lost, not that it can be helped now, of course. At least if we go now, and survive, we’ll can at least come back later and see what can be salvaged when we’re no longer under any threat.”

Riker swallowed, feeling uncomfortable for the family’s loss. “Agreed. If we’re going, we need to leave now. There’s no knowing if the weapon fire from the invaders damaged the cliffs enough to cause the surface layers to become unstable. There may be a rock slide at any moment, closing the passage way off, if they discharged their weapons too close to the cliff edge.”

Servalan drew a breath, she hadn’t considered that possibility. “Do you think so? Maybe we shouldn’t try and get out this way after all?”

Despite their predicament, Dayna sniggered. “Well, you’re certainly welcome to try your luck and get out the way you came in,” she suggested, gesturing back down the corridor behind them which was now half full of water. “Oh, but wait, you don’t know the way do you, you were unconscious when we rescued you and brought you here, what a mistake that turned out to be!”

“Dayna, that’s enough,” Hal reprimanded.

Servalan gave Dayna a venomous look. 

Smiling sweetly, Dayna gestured towards the weapons she was carrying. She’d given the box with the recovered tech in to Ilesha. “Try it,” she suggested, seeing Servalan looking in that direction.

“Look, I get why everyone is a little tense right now, but fighting amongst ourselves isn’t going to help any, is it?” Riker said pointedly. “Going through the hatchway is the only way out of here, so I suggest we get on.”

“In case it’s escaped anyone’s attention, the water is still rising,” Hal added, “And we’ve still got work to do.”

“Of course, you’re right father. Ilesha’s shivering, we need to get her somewhere warm and dry,” Dayna agreed, feeling somewhat ashamed of herself. “I’m sorry Sleer,” she said to Servalan. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

Servalan’s smile was just as false. “That’s quite all right my dear, I shall try to overlook it just this once.”

“Good, since we’re now all friends, perhaps someone would help me finish opening the door,” Riker added.

With a loud creaking groan and a booming pop of one of the overstressed joints, the once airtight door finally opened enough to allow a reasonable sized person to squeeze through. It was pitch black beyond the flicking lights of the corridor.

“That’s going to make life interesting,” Servalan commented.

Dayna half waded towards her sister. The water was nearly up to the young girls chest now, and she was using the box she’d been given as a floating aid. Smiling at her sister, Dayna rummaged in the box and came up with a handful of handheld lights. “I don’t know how long the charge will last, and until we reach daylight we have no way of recharging them, so be careful,” she warned handing them out to everyone, grudgingly even giving one to Servalan.

Immediately stepping through the airlock hatchway, the flooring gave way to sand and bigger lumps of rock and other rubble making the terrain treacherous under foot, and impossible to see under the still flowing water. It was hard going for the first ten metres or so, before the tunnel floor started to gradually slope upwards, the water receding and their footholds became more reliable until they were on dry land, Hal leading the way, as he didn’t need light to see followed by Servalan, who despite earlier reticence to leave had been the second through the airlock. Dayna and Riker had ushered Ilesha through next, then Dayna had gone through once more carrying her box, leaving Riker to make up the rear.

“I don’t see any sign of further damage to the tunnel,” Servalan called back several minutes later as they continued on the upwards slope.

“What we saw may just have been caused by the shifting of the space station,” Riker acknowledged, he’d been using his torch to examine the walls and ceiling around them for signs of any displacement and had found none. “Can you see any further ahead?”

“Nothing beyond my torchlight, does it widen out at any point?” Servalan responded.

The small party was quite for some moments, the tunnel fairly steep and rough underfoot.

“I could do with a rest,” Servalan said short while later.

“There is a small internal cave not far now,” Hal offered. “I’ve not thought of it for many years, nor visited it of course, but there should be a couple of crates for people to sit down on. It was one of the first things I did when we first arrived, just in case of this possibility.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies!”

“Good forward planning sir,” Riker agreed. “How much further on after that do we need to go?”

“I’m not sure, perhaps half a kilometre, maybe two. The tunnel is mostly natural, so it winds round a bit, and joins some other dead ends later on. Eventually though it will lead out to the surface just a short distance from what we call the keepers hut.”

“The keepers hut? What’s that?”

“I know it, it’s an outcropping of rock near the top of the cliff that looks as if it goes right into the centre of the earth. I found it years ago, and was forbidden to go near it once I told father.”

“And like a good little girl you did as you were told.” Servalan sniped.

“You…”

“Dayna no,” Hal said warningly. “Now is not the time.”

“Yes father, but it will, you can be sure of that Sleer…” Dayna said firmly.

“We need to save our breath for walking,” Riker interjected. “Now, when we get to the stop off point, Sleer you can rest there for a while with Hal and Ilesha, make a list of what we’ll need to survive here for a while if we can’t get hold of one of those ships. Dayna and I will scout ahead.”

“Oh no, I’m not staying here and doing that.”

“You will. With your leg, you’ll slow us down.”

“I haven’t so far.”

“No, but you’re the first one to complain of being tired, and who can blame you after the couple of days you’ve had. A rest may restore your good mood too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, let the girl stay with her father and sister.”

“I do have a name you know,” Dayna muttered loudly.

“She can’t,” Riker countered. “Dayna is the only one with knowledge of this planet. I’m sorry sir, but you and Ilesha are likely to need help away from your home, and as you’ve said yourself Sleer, your leg isn’t too bad, so you should be adequate protection for them.”

Servalan growled. “Fine, then you leave us armed at least, if I’m to be a glorified babysitter!”

“My father is an excellent shot,” Dayna smiled.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s all you’ll get.”

Walking away from the designated rest spot fifteen minutes later, both herself and Riker carrying several weapons and a couple of extra bits, Dayna flashed the First Officer a grin. “So tell me, have you got a plan, or are we making this up as we go along. Exactly how do you plan on capturing a spacecraft?”

Kerr Avon gasped or breath as he struggled to sit upright and swing his legs over the edge of his bed. Dr Crusher had dimmed the lights in ITU, leaving the computer tech alone and frustrated in the dark. Avon wasn’t sleepy despite the medication he’d been given, being far too impatient to finish building his transceiver, and keep an eye on Orac, knowing it well enough to know that it was probably up to something beyond it’s admitted disruptions. He had little faith that Donna would be able to keep it in check.

Dr Crusher was an exceptional surgeon, and the _Enterprises _medical facilities, second to none. Avon had no idea therefore that his crash had caused compound fractures to his right femur and left pelvis – and though they had been repaired, the breaks regenerated using nano technology, that the bones would not completely finish healing and be structurally sound for another 48 hours or so, where his injures had been so extensive.

Exactly what Avon’s plan was, other than getting up and possibly reaching Donna, he wasn’t sure, his mind affected by the medication he’d been given, even if it hadn’t made him sleep. In his semi delusional state, anything he could accomplish or achieve, was better than laying there and doing nothing. All he needed was a time and some space to think clearly and find a way to get hold of the _Liberator._


	12. Things are hotting up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read and review, hope everyone continues to enjoy :-)

“Damn it!” Tarrant hit the control panel in front of him in frustration, fortunately missing the controls. “We can’t outrun them, can’t fight them, there’s too many of them for us to stand our ground, if we tried that we’d be slaughtered, there’s no way of getting out of this that I can see.”

Cally looked as glum as Tarrant. “Zen, how long are we able to hold station above the planet for? Perhaps we can outlast them?”

\+ Energy banks 3 and 4 are depleted. There is 30° remaining in bank 2 and 47° in bank 1. We can maintain our current position, relative to the planet below for another 3 hours, 6 minutes and 15 seconds. +

“And then we’re sitting ducks.”

“Do not be overly fanciful, none of those things is going to happen,” Worf said from his position at tactical, which was Vila’s usual station. He had spent the last few minutes reviewing the _Liberators_ systems, or as much of them as he understood.

“Oh really, and why is that. Do you have any practical suggestions?” Tarrant said, his voice tetchy. He wasn’t used to no win scenarios, and so far his entire day seemed to have consisted of lurching from one impossible situation to the next.

Worf took no offence at Del’s tone or demeanour. “If you would cease your chattering, I will certainly try to explain,” he agreed. “Cally do you keep diffractive high resolution gratings, monofilament coated glass-wire, isolinear LCars sub nodes, twin dimorphic amplifiers…..”

Tarrant interrupted Worf’s long list. “Hold on a minute, I don’t understand half of what you just said,” he complained.

With a sigh Worf moved away from his station and approached Cally, handing her his tricorder on which was displayed a list of items he had been reading from.

“I recognise only a few of these, why is it important?”

“I believe if I had the materials I could build a rudimentary cloaking device,” Worf said firmly.

“A what?”

“A cloaking device, bends light and other forms of energy to make a ship completely invisible to the electromagnetic spectrum and most sensors.”

“But that’s not possible surely?”

“Klingons have had this technology for several hundred years.”

“And you know how to build one of these things, this cloaking device.”

“Yes, if this ship is carrying the necessary components.”

“How long will it take?” Cally asked.

“Approximately three hours.”

“Then best we get started. Cally, where would we go to find these parts?”

“The aft storeroom, just past the third junction. Would you like me to show you?”

Worf, Tarrant and Cally drew up outside a familiar looking door. “Isn’t this where we stashed a couple of the troupers?” Tarrant asked looking at Worf.

“Yes I believe so,” Worf agreed drawing his phaser.

Cally looked at her companions. “I believe they are asleep, I’m getting only the vaguest impressions from them.”

Tarrant drew his gun too. “One can never be too sure,” he said with a grin, gesturing for Worf to proceed him.

“We’ll go in on my mark,” Cally said firmly, interrupting them both. “The light switch is right next to the door plate to the right, do either of you remember if you left it on or off?”

“Off,” said Worf immediately.

“Funny, I felt sure we left it on,” Tarrant said a split second later.

Cally looked at them both. “It doesn’t matter that much I suppose, only if they have somehow broken free then it would have been helpful to have the element of surprise on our side.”

“They’ll be surprised all right if we get ourselves blown up,” Tarrant griped. “I just hope this cloak thing of yours works,” he said to Worf.

“It’s called a cloaking device, but as I said on the bridge, it will only be a rudimentary device, a refractive electromagnetic mirror with a variable wave resonance.”

“If it works.”

Worf nodded. “Indeed. Shall we proceed?”

“We go on three,” Tarrant suggested.

Cally was though the door first. The lights had been off; she switched them on quickly and with unerring accuracy. The store room looked as neat and tidy as ever. Several isles of shelving holding various parts of electronics, machinery and other bits of tech or tools, some of which were recognisable the others completely and conceptually alien, like the ship.

“They should be round here,” Tarrant suggested, moving to the left and walking down the aisle.

Marv and Yarrow appeared to be exactly where they’d been left. Each tied to an integral support strut or column, far enough away from each other that they couldn’t touch or exchange any tools they might have hidden; which had been missed on the quick pat down Tarrant had given each one of them.

Yarrow looked as if he were still unconscious from the blow to his head when he’d been tackled by Worf. Cally quickly checked his breathing and airways as well as his bonds.

They had apparently woken Marv up, he blinked groggily at the trio, and tried to wiggle free from his restraints once more. Tarrant checked them out thoroughly, making sure they were still holding. While Worf started looking at his list to find his parts.

“Eh, what’s going on? Have you come to your senses yet?” Marv asked pulling away from Tarrant.

“Yes, quite some time ago thank you,” Tarrant said pleasantly.

“Well, aren’t you going to untie me then?”

“I said I’d come to my senses, not taken leave of them,” Tarrant grinned.

Marv spat at him. 

Tarrant, simply moved away, standing and wiping his sleeve off with distaste. “How you getting on with your list?” he asked Worf.

“I am unable to locate any fluorite which I need for the refractive prism.”

“I saw some minerals in the shelving over that way. Cally, can you help?”

“Cally is looking to see if she has some form of thermodynamic coupler size 7 or 8.”

“7 or 8? Look are you sure you know how to build this thing?”

Marv looked from Worf to Tarrant, as they continued to walk away from him still talking “Ere,” he called. “You really don’t intend to leave me here do you? I’m getting rather hungry and thirsty you know…”

Tarrant walked back towards him. “Well, a tiny morsel of information for you. If my friend and I don’t get this right, you won’t need to worry about such trivial matters.”

“Why’s that then.”

“We’ll all be dead.”

Avon fell with a thud to the floor, unable to stop a grunt of pain as he landed, rather audibly onto the carpeted floor. That he’d fallen was as much a surprise to him as anything else. His body was stiff and sore, his chest tight and breathing had been difficult, but he wasn’t expecting his legs to give way immediately without any warning. The fall also set off the alarm on the medical monitors above his bed; some he was attached to, and some which were still monitoring him remotely.

Dr Crusher and a couple of her staff arrived within moments, along with a security guard from the bridge. Beverly had been in the process of firmly telling him that she was not going to wake Avon up regardless of the Captain's orders.

“What happened?” she asked reaching Avon’s side, firmly placing a hand on the centre of his chest when he tried to sit up. “Lay still, let me check you out and make sure you haven’t broken anything else.”

Avon glowered at Crusher. “I can assure you I’m perfectly fine.”

“Suppose you let me be the judge of that umm. If you were perfectly fine, then you wouldn’t have landed on the floor now would you. I suspect it’s just where you’re bones are still healing and are not up to full strength as yet,” Crusher said matter-of-factly taking out her tricorder and running the scanner over Avon’s prone form. “Are you feeling dizzy at all?” Beverly paused, waiting for Avon’s answer. “Well?” she prompted when none was forth coming.

Avon’s expression darkened still further. “That is none of your business,” he snapped, unwilling to confess that he did feel a touch dizzy and somewhat nauseated too.

“As I am your doctor, I would say that it does make it my business, you had a fair degree of bruising to your occipital bone, which you’ve just smacked on the floor once more, so you’re going to feel woozy to say the least.”

“I don’t remember,” Avon admitted.

“What hitting your head just now?” Beverly said moving to take Avon’s head in her hand and gently start to manipulate his neck to check for further trauma. “Or during your original accident.”

Avon moved to push Crushers hands away. “I’m fine,” he said firmly.

“No you are not. However since the Captain has already requested your presence on the bridge, and since you are obviously not sleeping as I told the Lieutenant here, then if you are feeling ok, I see no reason that you can’t go. Let me just get you an antigrav unit.”

“I will not be…”

“You’re not able to walk, besides I want you where I can keep an eye on you.” Crusher said firmly. “Now, lets see about getting you up, and giving you something more suitable to wear.”

Peering cautiously over the top of a couple of very battered crates and ubiquitous oil drums Riker and Dayna watched a group of three bronze Dalek’s glide down the ramp up to their circular ship and immediately consult with another group of Dalek’s who were overseeing some of the Sarrans they had captured clear the rubble away from one of the bombed buildings. Next to the original three Daleks, there was a lectern type of stand supporting what was clearly some kind of Dalek plans or itinerary as the Dalek’s seemed to confer to it.

“What are they doing do you think?” Dayna hissed.

Riker was struck by an overwhelming sense of deja vu. “I think this is where I came in,” he whispered back.

“I’m sorry?”

“Isn’t this how we met?” the First Officer queried.

Ducking back down behind their makeshift cover as a newly captured group of Sarrans were marched through the clearing by another trio of Daleks, the chains around the native’s ankles clanking obviously, Dayna offered Riker a brief smile. “I do believe you’re right,” she agreed. “So what’s the plan?”

“We’re too far away to hear anything useful,” Riker mused, moving round to peer over their cover once more. “Their ship is quite near to a couple of buildings, but they seem to have guards posted around the edges, and those three in the middle never seem to move away from the entrance.”

Dayna looked too. “Well not very far at any rate. I don’t like the way their heads seem to swivel all the way round their bodies either, it doesn’t leave much wiggle room to sneak up from behind.”

“No it doesn’t, you’re right there. So an ambush is out of the question. What about a distraction?”

“What kind of…” Dayna started, only to put a hand over her mouth to silence her gasp, as she saw how the Dalek’s dealt with a prisoner who tried to escape. One of the workers suddenly decided to make a bolt for the other side of the clearing - and lit up in a blue flash from the outside in, his whole skeleton outlined briefly in blinding white light as a scream rent the air, before he abruptly disintegrated.

“Nice!” Riker commented disgusted. “Effective though. So, make a note, not to get too close to them.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I wasn’t actually planning to,” Dayna admitted.

“So we need a distraction…”

“From a distance,” Dayna added.

Riker nodded. “What do you have in that bag of tricks of yours?”

“I have a few charges that can be set on a delayed timer, nothing fancy, but effective.”

“What kind of delay?”

“Anything downwards of five minutes, as long as they haven’t gotten too wet.”

“Anything else?”

“A rocket launcher, that can be programmed to a specific target. You can launch up to four projectiles with it at a time, but I’m not sure it would penetrate their bodies or casings. Do you think they’re robots, or is there something alive in there?”

“If they’re robots, do you have anything which would put out an electrical charge?”

“I have something which might disrupt them.”

“Do you have any binoculars or field glasses, you know the kind of things which make far away objects look closer than they really are?”

Dayna laughed softly. “I know what binoculars are silly, and yes I have a pair… here you are. What are you thinking?”

“Do you have any rope in that bag of yours too?”

“I may have, so you do have a plan, what is it?”

Moving cautiously Riker pointed. “A quick shimmy from that vantage point should do it…”

“It would.” Dayna agreed. “But we’ve got to get in there first... duck…”

Another group of prisoners were ushered into the clearing from another direction. This group was bigger than before, consisting of about twenty of the natives. Two of the bronze Daleks that had come down from the ship went to consult with their Dalek guard, and for the first time Riker and Dayna saw a Sarran who was obviously of higher status than the rest walk away from the group and join the conference of Daleks.

“Do you recognise him?” Riker asked curious.

“Should I?” Dayna queried.

“I wondered if he were some kind of tribal leader? They’re obviously going to need someone to be able to follow the prisoners closely, the Dalek’s are too big to get into some of the areas where they are using the workers.”

Dayna pointed towards the binoculars she’d just given to Riker and trained them on the group. “I don’t recognise him, but he is wearing an overlords costume. I can’t quite make out what’s on the plan on that stand though… it looks like some kind of building… care to try?”

Riker took the glasses back and trained them on the lectern. “They look like plans for something, you’re right there,” he agreed. “But I can’t see them clearly either. What the hell is that…?”

With a large groan, and ominous rumble, half the building the prisoners had been clearing gave way, crushing some of them beneath it, while others started to run away in all directions. The Daleks, immediately shot runners closest to them, while the rest of the prisoners huddled closer, but that still left roughly a dozen Sarrans free and getting away.

Immediately four of the Daleks glided after them, seemingly untroubled by the rubble and uneven ground.

One of the remaining two Daleks swivelled round to address the guard furthest to Riker and Dayna, obviously instructing it to join in the hunt for the escapees. It then turned to address the Dalek guarding the saucer closest to them.

“The prisoners are escaping. You will assist in their recapture or extermination.” It instructed.

“I obey.”

Riker and Dayna held their breaths as the Dalek immediately moved forward, it’s head swivelling from side to side. “Switching to heat scanning mode,” it intoned.

Knowing it was now or never, Riker and Dayna waited until the last moment then broke cover, melting back into the shadows behind them, before running in a zigzagged diagonal towards the building closest to the Dalek saucer. As Riker had spotted, there was a manual overhead pulley system which jutted out of the front of the building, evidently used for lifting large objects like sacks of produce into the barn it was attached to.

Panting, Dayna slid down behind Riker. “I thought about setting a delayed timer where we were,” she whispered out of breath.

“You didn’t, I hope,” Riker replied softly.

Dayna shook her head. “I didn’t have enough time.”

“Good.”

At Dayna’s puzzled expression, Riker grinned faintly. “If you had, it would have given our presence away, as well as the fact that your toys are clearly the most advanced tech on this planet. Quiet now, lets see if we can get up to the top.”

“Won’t they have look outs?”

“I hope not. Who attempts to enter a spaceship from the top anyway?”

“Evidently we do…. Come on…” Dayna agreed.

Everyone was busy talking at once. Everyone was busy telling the Doctor what he had to do next. The Doctor tuned out the conversation and looked around him, taking in the clearing in which they were all standing. To call the trees a forest would have been overstating the fact. To call the trees a wood, would still have been on the generous side. They were in the clearing of a copse of trees, with other clumps of trees scattered around a dense scrubland. A dozen or so children, the Doctor counted fourteen of them, primarily female, sat around the perimeter, their faces mostly in shadow, but lit up by the fire of the factory to their behind them somewhere to the right. Troi had reached the opposite side of the clearing, and the Doctor could see a couple of the little ones had drawn close to her.

Smoke could be seen billowing over the top of the tree line. The hazing flash of energy discharged weapons an occasional tinge of blue. The noise of the fire could also be heard, along with muted cries of the combatants.

The children were silent however, most of them dressed in a utilitarian darkish grey.

The Doctor noticed the children’s silence, and he also noticed one other important thing… no one had so far come through the woods apparently searching for them. The combatants from both sides apparently either not noticing they’d left, or else far too interested in the mutual destruction of each other to care.

“Hello,” the Doctor said, moving away from the talking adults to crouch down next to the closet child. “My name’s the Doctor. Do you have a name?”

“I used to be Raith,” the young girl said slowly after a bit when it was clear the Doctor was waiting for her to say something.

“But you’re not called that any more?”

“Not once I’ve been modified no. Then I’ll have a number.”

The Doctor frowned, and looked towards the orange light in the sky. “I don’t think that’s going to happen now,” he said carefully. “Maybe we should take you home?”

“You can’t, my home… and my family… were destroyed by the Federation…”

The Doctor drew a breath appalled, and stared round at the other faces. “And this has happened to you too?” he asked of the nearest children. A couple nodded, one or two said that they’d been taken as to punish their families, those members still alive, five of the children had been sold, and the rest seemed to either come from orphanages or were street kids, picked up by guards on their various planets.

The Doctor’s face grew grim. “They’ve just made a very big mistake,” he told the children, “Because they’ve just made me very angry, and when I’m angry, there’s no telling what I will do. I promise you, I will fix this somehow.”

“I’m very glad to hear it,” a new voice coming from behind the Doctor said firmly.

The Doctor stood, turning immediately. “And you might be?”

“You can relax, you’re among friends. I’m Deva, this is my friend Payton, we only barely managed to make it out in time… I’m glad to hear you’re on our side.”

“I don’t take sides,” the Doctor said warningly.

“But you do fight for freedom, and you do want to help the children?” Deva said handing Payton over to Avalon who had stopped talking when she saw her Lieutenant had arrived.

“I’m here to help,” the Doctor agreed.

“Good man.” Deva said turning to Avalon. “Where’s Blake?”

“He’s not with you?”

“No ,we split up. We lost Martin early on, Payton and I went left when we reached the main storage facility,y Blake, Docholli and Moss right, toward the experimental labs. You mean they’re still in there?”

“That’s exactly what I mean, we were just telling the Doctor that he has to help us mount a rescue party,” Avalon said firmly.

“We need to make sure Blake is either dead, or free,” Jenna added.

Deanna, who, like the Doctor had been spending time with the children, looked across the gathering and met the Doctors stormy eyes; she didn’t need to be an empath to sense the anger and frustration that were rippling over and through him like waves. Aware that the Doctor was close to his tipping point, she gracefully stood and entered the adult group. “I’m aware that you don’t know me. I’m a counsellor by trade, so I think it’s only fair to let you know that you should definitely not be treating the Doctor as an asset. Neither he or I were aware of you until a short while ago, we’re not here to take sides. We will help you where we can, for as long as we can, but if you want our help you need to show some respect. 

“The Doctor rescued both myself and Vila from extremely hazardous situations, he’s also prepared to take you somewhere safe now. So my advice, for what it’s worth, would be to ask him to assist you in finding your people, if he will, bearing in in mind we have a fairly large group of children here, whose safety is surely paramount importance. Without the Doctor it seems to me that we’ve no way of getting off this planet.”

Donna stood still as the turbolift doors to the _Enterprise_’ bridge whooshed open silently, once more struck by the openness of the space before her, dominated as it was by the large viewscreen at the ‘front’ of the area. It was currently showing the image of a blue green world below, dominated on the right and side by a huge glittering golden-bronze flying saucer.

When she didn’t immediately move forward, the security guard who had been sent to fetch her, touched her back and when she turned, gestured that she should step onto the bridge properly.

Data, having returned to the bridge and caught up with Captain Picard, was still on his feet when Donna arrived.

“Welcome to the bridge Miss Noble,” he said carefully. “The security guard beside you is for your own safety.”

Up until that moment, Donna hadn’t realised her escort had followed her, she smiled nervously. “What am I, under arrest or something?”

Data said nothing in response.

Quick on the uptake Donna paled somewhat then squared her shoulders. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to have done, but if that’s the way you want to play it, bring it on sunshine!” she said with far more confidence and a sense of bravado than she was feeling.

“I’m not sure what daylight has to do with any…”

Picard rose from his seat. “It’s an old earth colloquialism Mr Data,” he explained hastily.

“Ah, and idiom, such as ‘a bird in the hand is worth…”

“Yes Mr Data. Perhaps you’d like to go and inform Mr La Forge of our plan?” Picard said firmly, gesturing to the aft science station.

Data closed his mouth at once and nodded. “As you wish captain,” he agreed.

Picard looked at Donna, his expression not particularly friendly. “I am not sure what you and Avon hope to gain by continuing your little charade, but I’m going to tell you that I will not let it go on any longer,” he told her.

Donna felt something snap inside her. Her temper which she’d largely retained up till now, was abruptly let loose. “Which particular charade are you referring to?” she asked crossing her arms. “The one where I get kidnapped and end up on a ship full or hostile people from the future? Or perhaps the one where I’m accused of working with someone I’ve never heard of before? Or wait, let me guess, the one where I’m a supposed spy for a f**** enormous spaceship that is singularly the most terrifying object I’ve seen so far? Or would that be where I’m accused of being something I’m not by a short bald man with a god complex?”

Picard stared at Donna, clearly riled by her words. He tugged firmly on the hem of his tunic. “Your temper tantrum will hold little sway with me,” he warned her.

“No, I’ve noticed that you don’t listen to anything than your other over inflated opinion,” Donna shot back. “Your chief medical officer has clearly told you that me and that man in sick bay are from different universes, yet you persist in your belief that we’re working together. I do not know him, any more than I know you, or that sodding spaceship out there. I want to get back to my own time, and my own universe and the Doctor.”

“Crusher?

“No you idiot. My Doctor. He’s called the Doctor, like you’re called, whatever it is you’re called..” Donna spluttered. “I’m just a temp from Chiswick and want to go home.”

Donna’s genuine distress finally seemed to get through to Picard. “You don’t know what those things in that spacecraft are after?”

“No, how could I…”

“Ensign run the recording we made of the Dalek space ship entering the anomaly,” Picard instructed the junior at Opps.

Donna watched the screen intently showing a recording of the Dalek ship entering the swirling coloured cloud in one position and then explosion appearing roughly 90°s to the right several moments later.

“What do you make of that?” Picard asked Donna curiously.

“Some kind of trick? Or navigation problem?” Donna suggested.

“Ensign,” Picard instructed once again.

Several more short clips of the Dalek saucers spinning into the cloud and explosions appearing in different places but always at a 90° angle from their starting point, followed quickly on from each other.

“And now?”

“Well, the navigation system can’t be wrong in all of them.”

“That’s what we thought,” Picard agreed.

“It could be something that is affecting their engines…”

“Data seems to think not,” Picard said carefully.

“So that leaves…” Donna said, frowning at the screen, she knew she was missing something; seeing something that she couldn’t quite put a finger on.

“That leaves a possible temporal disturbance in space time,” a new voice said from behind Donna, as Avon was led onto the bridge in a grav sledge.

Data turned to look at Avon in surprise. “The science team hadn’t long ago finished their preliminary findings and had reached the same conclusion. How did you know?”

Sounding bored Avon pointed towards the viewscreen. “Even at this distance it is clear that the apex curve on the leading edge of the perimeter is suggestive of the fact.”

Data looked back at the viewscreen. “You are correct,” he agreed.

“I usually am.” Avon said dismissively.

“Well, that’s all very well, but it still seems a little too convenient to me,” Picard insisted. “How can we be sure that you had nothing to do with it?”

Avon raised an eyebrow. “Ah now, miracles take a little longer,” he with a lopsided smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let me be crystal clear. I have absolutely no memory of anything after I passed out on my ship. One of the crew must have put me in a life support capsule. I came too aboard this ship, that is the sum of my knowledge.”

Picard pursed his lips and gestured towards the Dalek spaceship. “Did you see these in your space battle?”

“No.”

“Do you know what they are?”

“I presume they were the Daleks you mentioned when you visited my sick bed.”

“And you are not working in collusion with Miss Nobel?”

“As I said previously, I had not met Miss Nobel until I awoke aboard your ship.”

“You didn’t answer my question?”

Avon raised an eyebrow. “Ah now, you’ll have to forgive me, I’m still recovering. In fact I believe I am here against my doctors advice.”

“You are here to assist me, to stop that damn ship…” Picard stopped and collected himself. “You are here, you are both here, in order to help us all find a way to stop that ship from blowing us to kingdom come. We are severely outgunned, my First Officer is missing, currently believed to be on that planet below, and my Chief of Security vanished from our transporters, along with one of his teams when they tried to rescue him. Our Ships Councillor was somehow magiced from this very bridge at the same time that Miss Nobel appeared, and this ship has been suffering a series of escalating electrical faults.

“Now I may not be the most learned of men, but all of these events all started since we decided to rescue you. Taken together, even if you are a completely innocent party as you claim, you must surely admit that these events have to be connected somehow? Too much has happened for it all to be put down to a simple coincidence. Now can you help me or not? Are you some sort of telepath or empath? Has your accident triggered something that would cause these things either intentionally or unintentionally? Can you shed any light on the matters and help us fix any of them?

Deanna shared a not so subtle glance in Avon’s direction.

“So you do know something?” Picard said catching the look.

Donna said nothing and looked away, but patted the pocket of her surgical tunic.

Avon understood immediately. Donna had the communicator he had built to get in touch with Orac, and was silent as he weighed up the possibilities of telling the Captain about Orac’s presence on the ship. On the one hand, telling Picard about the recalcitrant machine, may bring further suspicion down on Avon for not telling anyone about Orac’s existence in the first place, though it could be argued that Avon himself hadn’t brought the machine aboard, nor did he in fact know where Orac was. Knowing that Orac was on the _Enterprise_ would not stop Orac from being able to hack into the ships computer as far as Avon knew, but he did dislike giving away any advantage.

On the other hand if he was unable to extract a promise from Orac not to shut down a crucial bit of programming at the wrong time, then the question might be mute as the ship would be blown up by the enemy in any case.

It was a measure of the fact that Avon was still feeling the effects of his injuries and the medication that Crusher had given him that he took so long to make up his mind. And his decision, once made, was one that he wasn’t entirely sure about anyway.

“Well now, all you had to do was ask,” Avon said in direct answer to Picard’s question. “I am not telepathic or empathic, but when you bought me aboard your ship, you also brought aboard something which also belongs to me. It’s called Orac, and is an incredibly advanced computer.”

Picard sucked in a breath, surprised and shocked. “Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?”

“I’ve been unconscious for most of my time aboard your ship.”

Picard huffed, that much was true at least. “But when you woke up?”

Avon blinked his surprise. “You’d hardly expect me to trust complete strangers would you? In fact I’m not so sure I trust you now.”

“Then why are you telling us.”

“Let’s just say your speech convinced me. That and the large ship out there. It’s possible that Orac is responsible for some of your glitches. I’d rather not see us blown to smithereens if I can help it.”

“You are suggesting that your computer can interface with the _Enterprise_ without a physical connection?” Data asked intrigued. “That is something even I am unable to do.”

Avon looked sharply at Data. “You’re an android?”

“Yes,” Data said simply. “And I would very much like to meet your computer Orac. Can I fetch it for you?”

“You could, if I knew where it was,” Avon agreed, very much interested in Data and approving of the designation ‘it’ rather than ‘he’ which the _Liberator_ crew insisted on bestowing on Orac.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are hotting up as our intrepid heroes try to reconnect and find each other. However trouble is never far away, just round the next corner in fact.

“Well, what do you think?” Riker said handing the spyglass to Dayna. They had made it to the top of the storage facility type barn without being seen, and were currently laying on the dusty floorboards near the opening that overlooked the Dalek saucer, hidden off to one side in the shadows. The lifting hoist which had seemed to tower over the saucer from the ground, viewed from above looked only to just about to reach the outer rim. If they were really going to gain entry from the top, instead of going in the front way, then there would be a small amount of rope climbing and swinging that would leave them terribly exposed.

Taking the binoculars from Riker, Dayna trained them on the top of the spaceship. The hadn’t appeared to be any windows on the sides of the saucer, just alternating rows of sensors, armament and lights. The top of the saucer curved slightly downwards all the way round, from the centre curved half bubble shape that bulged out from the top and sat at the apex of the craft. There were no windows anywhere to be seen on the top of the saucer either, but there were what looked like six hatchways, the openings completely flush with the saucer’s exterior surface. Three of them were odd shaped and looked to be docking clamp hatchways, of the other three, one was definitely too small to be of any use to them, but the remaining two looked possible.

“Three docking hatches, one small one which is obviously the power coupling,” Dayna called back softly.

“Agreed. What about the other two?”

“One of them has very faint track marks leading either two or away from the opening. I would have said a ladder or hatchway, if I didn’t know they couldn’t climb.”

“But their prisoners can.”

“True, the lines are too precise for wear and tear though, and it’s a bit of a clumsy way of accessing the interior, I’m leaning towards something mechanical a weapon placement.”

Unseen Will Riker nodded. “Yes, that’s what I thought too,” he agreed.

“Which leaves us with just the one unknown, that has to be worth checking out.” Dayna suggested. “It looks big enough for you to fit through, so would probably be ok, I mean no disrespect, but you’re quite a bit bigger than me.”

“None taken, anything else?”

Riker had expected a further comment from Dayna, but she wiggled back away from the opening instead. 

“Hold on a minute, let me look and see if I’ve got with me what I hope I have.”

“And what’s that.”

Sitting with her back against a sloping wall of the barn, Dayna quickly rifled through the rucksack into which she’d transferred the contents of her box full of tec. “Now let me see…. Have I? Nope not that, nor that, drat don’t say I didn’t bring any… yes I did,” she said muttering to herself, until she brought forth an item excitedly. “Now, I’m thinking these might do the trick,” she said holding up a small glass vial.

Riker looked at it; and looked through it. “It’s empty.”

Dayna laughed. “Silly! Of course it’s not. Granted it does look empty, but that’s only because the contents are microscopically tiny.”

“And they are?” Riker asked dubiously. “A virus or something? Won’t we get infected too?”

“No, it’s not a virus, they’re microscopic machines.”

“Nanites then?”

“No, not quite. As you know our home is a space station grounded on the floor of the ocean. Well, every now and then some of her inflow pipes become clogged with fine silt and sand, honestly the stuff gets everywhere, and if not taken care of quickly, is terribly abrasive. When father first noticed the problem he tried to tackle it with a series of small force shields, which were water permeable, but would stop larger bits of debris getting in. He was only partially successful, so we then put our heads together and built these. We call them sand bots. They’re small enough to get through the molecular gaps in a force shield, but then powerful enough to eat anything in sight, energy, particulate matter, biological debris – they can even chomp their way through most kinds of metal which is why we keep them in glass containers.”

Riker whistled impressed, “So how do you plan to use them?”

“Those things, we’ve both seen they have force fields around them right?”

Riker nodded, when the building had collapsed, rubble had gone flying in all directions. Two of the Daleks had been close enough to have been caught, instead their personal force shields had flared white deflecting the building material. They had seen the same thing happen again when one of the prisoners had rebelled and attempted to attach a Dalek with plank of wood. The wood had bounced harmlessly away from the Dalek and the man had been exterminated.

“So you’re thinking, if we can get close enough…?”

“I am.”

Rikers wolf like smiled matched Dayna’s “So your sand bots will eat through their force shields and give us a weak spot for us to attack.

“No, it’s better than that. They’ll eat through the shields, and if they were sprinkled on top through…say a hatch way, they would then drop down on the machines and eat through their casing too – or at least that’s what I’m hoping.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. So how do you propose to do this? How close do we need to get to one of those things, always surmising there is any on board, and how long do they take to work?”

“Oh they don’t take very long at all, we should see results in half a minute or so, the trick is going to be getting close enough, as you say. Let’s hope the hatch is really a hatch and we can sprinkle them from above. Getting onto the saucer is going to be tricky.”

Dayna rummaged in her rucksack once more and brought out two sets of suction cups. “We have these,” she said with a smile.

Riker laughed out loud. “Is there anything you don’t have? A replicator perhaps?”

Dayna looked puzzled. “I’m not sure what that is,” she admitted.

“Never mind.” Riker smiled, then turned serious as he started to loop and coil the rope they’d need to use to reach the top of the saucer, testing it’s strength as he tied it in a series of knots and wrapped it round several support struts. “I think this will hold us. We’ll need to land as quietly as possible of course. Do you have anything in your magic bag that will jimmy open the hatches.”

“Probably,” Dayna agreed, searching through it again. “Although quite what we’re going to do if it’s not a service hatch and only opens onto circuitry.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’ve been watching their shift patterns, there never seems to be more than three of those things going into the ship at a time, so supposing they have a crew compliment of four or five, I don’t think they could get any more in…”

Dayna briefly bent to look round the opening in the barn and study the saucer once more. “I think you’re right. I’ve enough sand bots to take out several of the things, and some concussion shells that we could detonate if we can get them under them.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“You’re telling me. Shall we wait till dark or…?”

“I think we should go now, while they’re still trying to round up their prisoners, there still seems to be a fair amount of activity down there, so hopefully no one will be looking up.”

“So we steal a ship and then what? Get my dad and sister off this planet too?”

“I think they’re safe enough where they are at the moment don’t you, if we can get back up to the _Enterprise_, then we can certainly come down with reinforcements.”

“As long as we do.”

“I give you my word.” Riker said formally as he finished tying the ropes. “Right that’s as good as it’s going to get.”

“Ready when you are.” Dayna said handing him the suction cups and an odd looking rifle type prototype phased energy weapon.

It took Riker and Dayna no more than a minute to shimmy across the beam laying as flat as possible then each in turn slip down the ropes to land as quietly as possible on top of the saucer, being careful not to make any sudden movements in case they caused the ship to move. Laying down on the ships flat, though surprisingly grippy surface in order to keep their profiles as low as possible, they worked their way across one side of the ship until they came to the hatchway they’d hoped would gain them access.

“It’s probably alarmed,” Riker whispered.

Dayna nodded, producing a small pen like device, from a pocket in the arm of her jacket. Moving slowly she ran it round the lock. “Simple electromagnetic lock,” she agreed, twisting one half of the pen so it produced a small laser torch, before unscrewing the cap and shaking out a small mirror. “Just hold your breath for a minute…” she advised, using the mirror to reflect the alarm system while cutting the lock with the torch.

Riker watched her work in admiration, carefully lifting the hatch a fraction as Dayna stashed her tools away. “We’re in luck,” he said softly. “Looks like it opens into a service corridor… I can hear a couple of them talking, heading this way...”

Luck was with the duo, for as Dayna readied her vial of sand-bots the pilot and command Dalek for the saucer passed directly beneath them, discussing plans for drilling deep into the planet's surface to extract several minerals they needed.

The sand-bots, barely specks of faintly glittery dust, were briefly visible as Dayna sprinkled them over the Daleks, but the results were almost instantaneous.

“Malfunction, malfunction, my shields are failing,” the pilot screeched almost at once. “Help me, help me…”

“Malfunction, malfunction… I am also losing shield containment, can not see, can not see….”

“My systems are failing… my circuitry is compromised…”

“Power is failing… live support is shutting down…”

“Emergency, emergency, all Daleks stay clear of this facility… an unknown pathogen is causing total system failure..”

“I am also affected… power loss is imminent… Initiate self destruct…”

Riker and Dayna looked at each other in horror. “We’ve got to stop it…”

“Can not see, can not see…”

Dayna glanced at Riker in turn. “We can’t let them reach the switch… We need to go in, she said opening the hatch wider and preparing to slip inside.

“Dayna wait,” Riker hissed.

But Dayna had already slipped inside.

The initial explosions set off by the rebels devices had caused a chain reaction among the rest of the charges, causing most of the central portion of the factory to collapse in on itself, trapping and killing the Federation guards and Borg not already taken out by each other. Thick smoke and dust hung in the air as flames burned hot from broken fuel lines and electrical sources. And still the Borg and the Federation troupers battled it out, fierce fighting continued in the small pockets of building that were left standing.

A Federation trouper just about managed to drag himself around a corner, a Borg laser sliced through the air where he had been a moment earlier as a whirring, grating, grinding noise like a wheezy violin rent the air and a bright blue police box appeared in the middle of the corridor effectively blocking it off entirely. Rubble shifted uneasily as the Borg stood and watched, a support strut falling across the intruder pinning it down.

Inside the occupants of the Tardis cried out in fear as she settled with a crunch and shudder.

Frowning the Doctor grabbed the monitor screen next to him and peered at it intently.

“Is it supposed to be so bumpy?” Vila complained. “You flew it better last time.”

The Doctor gave Vila a sharp look. “Last time I didn’t have half a ton of building fall on me when I landed,” he said sounding uncharacteristically annoyed.

Jenna standing beside the Doctor, peered over the top of his shoulder to look at the screen. “Is that the damage report? How bad is it?” she asked, brushing aside Vila’s question as usual.

Jenna, as a first class pilot had volunteered her services to the Time Lord, as a way to mollify the Doctor when he finally and somewhat reluctantly agreed to rescue the rebels as well as the children. The Doctor had also unenthusiastically agreed to have a quick look for Blake, must against his own better judgement, as he was finding some of the rebels rather dictatorial attitude at odds with his own far less abrasive manner.

“The Tardis will be fine, there’s not much that can get past her shielding …usually,” The Doctor said with uneasy glance at Vila and Deanna; their appearance in the Tardis still an unsolved mystery.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Jenna said decisively.

Next to Jenna, Deva moved to toggle the switch on his station. It didn’t look any different to a normal toggle switch to the computer hacker, but the Doctor had assured him it was the hand brake, and like Jenna he had been happy to lend a hand once the Doctor had shown Fargus and Payton to the infirmary where Fargus’s rudimentary skills in first aid would be enough to stabilise Payton until they could get him proper medical assistance.

“So, how soon can we go and search for Blake?” Avalon asked firmly.

The Doctor glanced in the direction of the rebel leader then looked away again. “Soon, there are a few things I need to sort out first,” he offered.

“But you said the ship was not damaged, we need….”

“I said my ship was fine. I also said I would help if I could, but we do have some rather scared passengers that may need some reassuring first don’t you think?”

“I thought she was supposed to be looking after them?” Avalon said indicating Deanna with a nod of her head in the Betazoid’s direction.

The Doctor felt himself bristling. Avalon may look like an innocent young woman, and she might smile sweetly at him, but while he applauded her dedication to her people, he found her single minded attitude towards her rebellion, and the lives she would willingly loose in achieving her goal utterly abhorrent. “Yes, I’ve said I will help, but right now my concern is for my passengers...”

“But Blake may already be…”

The Doctor sighed. “In that case he’s going to be beyond my help. I’m sorry but Deanna may need help with some of the younger ones who have been through a traumatic time. I will see to them first, and then we will look for your Blake,” the Doctor said locking the Tardis flight control with a flip of a couple of switches and moving away to walk down the stairs to the lower deck where the children rescued from the Federation had indeed clustered around Troi. 

“Blimey, look at you all sitting on the floor like… like… you know what, I’m a rubbish host, really, really, rubbish… what do you all need? Chairs of course… cheeky chocolatey chairs… although maybe not chocolate as they’d melt when you sit in them wouldn’t they?” the Doctor tried cheerfully.

The half scared, tired and confused faces of the children stared back at him, whilst they might know what a chair was, none of them had heard of chocolate – in their universe it was the sole pleasure of the rich. Deanna gave the Doctor a smile which suggested she knew what he meant and was grateful that he’d tried.

The Doctor wasn’t about to give up however. “Right then, tell you what we’ll do, we’ll get you some chairs to sit on, we can’t go flying around in space with you lot sitting on the floor can we? Of course we can’t,” the Doctor said taking out his sonic screwdriver. “Weeeell, it just so happens I have some in a cupboard right here,” he continued pointing his sonic at one of the Tardis’ roundels, which was actually a hidden cupboard.

The door popped open obediently with a soft click and out tumbled a myriad of cushions, beanbags, and pillows in many different shapes, sizes and colours.

A couple of the older kids laughed.

“They don’t look much like chairs,” one stated boldly.

“No they don’t do they,” the Doctor agreed pretending to shake his sonic in an attempt to repair it. “Right, let’s try that again shall we?”

Another door popped open just above the first and out fell blankets, quilts, scarves and throws.

More of the children laughed, Deanna offering the Doctor a genuine smile too.

The Doctor moved forward and picked up a long stripy multi-coloured scarf and wound it round his neck loosely a couple of times. “I’ve been looking at this for ages,” he grinned.

Most of the children smiled back.

“Soo… will these do, or shall we keep searching?” he asked.

“Keep searching,” a couple of the children suggested.

“Perhaps a bed will fall out next?”

“These are fine, thank you; aren’t they everyone?” Deanna suggested firmly, then nudged those closest to her to start distributing them.

At last Troi was able to stand and walk a couple of steps away to stand next to the Doctor who was watching the children with every evidence of enjoyment. “That was very well done,” she said softly.

“Yeah, well they haven’t got much. And to be honest, I don’t quite know what we’re going to do with them, but they were right,” he said with a nod directed upwards to where Avalon and her rebels had remained around the Tardis rota. “We couldn’t leave them there.”

“I don’t think you’ve won many friends,” Deanna agreed.

The Doctor gave the Councillor a lopsided smile. “Can’t have everything. Look, I’ll get Vila to help you in the kitchen, if you don’t mind, you could get them something to eat. I’ll take the others and we’ll have a quick look for this Blake of theirs.”

“You don’t think you’ll find him?”

“I don’t think it’s very likely,” the Doctor admitted.

Deanna nodded, she mostly agreed with the Time Lord. “They are all most anxious about him, and worried for his safety, especially Vila and the blonde one.”

“Jenna.”

“Yes that’s right.”

The Doctor nodded he could feel that too. “I think she was their pilot.” Stepping back from Troi, he looked up towards and through the metal grating round the time rota. “Vilaaaa,” he called out-loud. “I have just the job for you…”

Vila’s head appeared over the railing; he was clutching his injured arm, in a way he hadn’t for several hours. “Me? I’m not sure how much help I can be… I’m still rather sore and…”

“You can relax Vila, you’ll be helping me,” Deanna said standing beside the Doctor.

Vila grinned. “That I can do pretty lady. I’ll be right down… so how can I help?” he said standing next to Deanna and the Doctor a minute later. 

“While the Doctor is out looking for your friend…”

“Blake,” Vila interrupted.

“Yes,” Deanna said patiently. “While he is outside looking for Blake, you will stay with me and help me look after the young ones, they need food and drink… and somewhere where they can rest and feel safe. And I noticed how good you were with them earlier, showing them a couple of simple magic tricks, so do you think you can help me with them now?”

Vila eyed the children a touch uncertainly. “I’m good with food, and drink is my speciality…”

“Not that kind of drink Vila,” the Doctor said impatiently. “They’re a bit young aren’t they?”

“I dunno about that, I started when I was only….”

“Vila!”

“Yes, oh, right, yes I see what you mean…”

“Or would you rather go outside and hunt through the rubble?”

“No, no… I’m quite happy here thank you…”

“Good,” the Doctor said firmly and turned abruptly serious. “Now this is important. Neither of you are to leave the Tardis, do you understand? We don’t know what’s out there, nor do we know which time we are in…”

“Well if Jenna and Avalon are here, then we’re in my time surely?” Vila suggested.

“But the Borg is from my time,” Deanna pointed out.

“And I’m still here as well. I’m a Time Lord, and trust me when I say that there is something very wrong with this course of events. Now, you both need to stay here. Should anything happen to me…”

Vila looked alarmed. “Now, don’t go saying things like that!”

“Should anything happen,” the Doctor repeated, ”then the Tardis is programmed to take you to the nearest safe place.”

“And where is that?” Deanna asked sensibly.

“My Earth,” the Doctor admitted. “So…. Well I’m sure she’ll do her best, but I don’t intend to let anything happen to me, so this whole conversation is probably rather confusing and totally pointless. However if I….”

“Doctor,” Jenna’s voice interrupted from above. “I think you need to come here and see this…”

With a last pointed look, the Doctor bounded up the flight console steps to Jenna’s side, pulling his glasses out of his pocket as he did so. “Yes? What’s going on?”

Jenna pointed towards the Tardis’ view screen. “I hope you’re right when you said nothing could get in?” she challenged, sounding not that sure of the Doctors earlier statement.

As the Doctor watched, the rear of the Tardis was approached by two Borg. One had a conventional laser gun arm, the other a blow torch, and they were both using them again the familiar blue panels. The Doctor studied the image for a few seconds. “Nah, they can’t do much harm,” he said watching them carefully. “But I don’t see why we shouldn’t persuade them it’s not really a good idea.” Moving to another side of the time rota while the rebels looked on, the Doctor flipped a few switches and turned a few dials, seemingly at random, before hitting a big red shiny button.

“You’ve got to have a button to press, the bigger and redder the better,” he offered.

No one smiled, but outside the result was instantaneous. An electrostatic discharge, radiated out in all directions from the Tardis, causing the two Borg to fall back and over, their weapons useless, the electronic bio-feeds that connected the living part of their bodies to the machine parts sparking visibly.

Above them, the beam fallen against the top of the Tardis shifted uneasily. A couple of the children looked up at where they could see the Doctor seeking reassurance. The Doctor deliberately waved back at them. “Nothing to worry about,” he announced cheerily, the grin fading from his face as he turned back to the monitor he had been looking at.

“What was that?” Avalon asked curious, moving to look at the monitor, showing the two unmoving Borg. “Would that take out any type of energy weapon, if so we could use something like that in our fight against the Federation.”

“No.”

“But it would be invaluable.”

“And I said no,” the Doctor repeated firmly.

“And I’m also very sorry,” Avalon continued, bringing the gun that she had been holding behind her back up and round to point at the Doctor.

The Doctor sighed. “People with guns. You never know when to stop, do you. I was happy to help you, but now… Now, you’ve just made a very big mistake.”

“I don’t think so.”

The Doctor pointedly turned his back on Avalon to address Deva. “Righto then. Your people. Do you have any way of contacting them, a telephone, or communicator, something like that?”

“Doctor, don’t make me do it,” Avalon’s voice shook faintly as she took a step closer to the Time Lord.

“I… don’t know what a telephone is,” Deva said looking between the Doctor and his leader as Avalon draw ever closer. “But we do have a two way radio. I’ve tried to raise them countless times, there’s nothing.”

Pushing his glasses more firmly up his nose, the Doctor looked nothing more than an excited professor, as he pointed ignored the rebel leader behind him. “Aww a two way radio, I haven’t seen one of those for…. Ooooh ages and ages, right back when…. Yeah, perhaps not! Most people seem to use a mobile now a days.”

“A mobile what?” Deva asked looking confused.

The Doctor sighed. “Sorry, ignore me babbling on. Do you have one of your radios on you by any chance?”

“Yes, of course,” Deva agreed, still watching Avalon with one eye, as he reached into his jacket pocket and took out the small dark brown, hand held device, with a small speaker grill and stubby shortwave aerial.

“Let me take a look at it…” the Doctor said taking out his screwdriver, and pointing it at the radio as it was handed to him.

Behind the Doctor, Avalon softly cocked her weapon, the small sound deafening in the silence around them. “Doctor, this is your last warning.”

Frowning in annoyance, the Doctor turned on the spot to face Avalon who was now less than a foot away from him. “And this is yours,” he said looking angry as he plucked the gun from her fingers with a speed she’d not anticipated and a move she’d not seen coming. “I don’t like guns. Nor do I work with people who persist in waving them at me. If you think guns can solve things, then you’re no better than that lot out there.”

“You don’t understand.”

The Doctor, put the gun down on a panel on the time rota and turned his back on Avalon again, seemingly not interested in anything she had to say, as he went back to examining the radio.

Avalon went to pick up the gun.

“I wouldn’t.” The Doctor warned without turning. “Besides, it won’t do you any good. The Tardis automatically disables all weapons on anyone who enters her.”

Picking up the gun against the Doctors advice, Avalon pointed it away from him and pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. Looking horror struck she glanced at Jenna and Deva. They had both been armed as well. If their guns also failed to work, they were completely defenceless.

The Doctor handed the radio back to Deva. “Try it now,” he instructed.

It had been the reinforced crossbeams of the intersection which had saved them; that and the fact that the wall behind them which had taken the force of the blast had also been lined with bonded graphene – a necessary protection for the scientists working with newly formed mutoids who were still getting used to their enhanced abilities.

Even so, they had not escaped uninjured. This time it had been Docholli who had been hurt, a falling chunk of masonry and rebar striking him on his right shoulder, dislocating it completely, while several falling beams had trapped Blake up against the wall in an upright position which made breathing difficult as one of the struts was uncomfortably tight against his chest, and using his hands had been made impossible, as they were trapped by his side.

Moss, who’d slid to the floor during the first concussive wave had hit had stopped talking some time ago. Blake and Docholli had gradually stopped talking too, as the sounds of gunfire had drawn closer, as had the smell of smoke and screams of pain.

It was pitch dark, the electrics having fried hours ago.

It was Blake who noticed the sounds of the energy beams had stopped. He also heard the sound of the Tardis materialising, a scant few metres away; the beams trapping them, having enough space to hold largish pockets of air, which allowed sound to travel, echoing and re-echoing around them.

After the wall had collapsed, neither he or Docholli had thought to call out when the fighting had drawn closer, the guns had sounded wrong, not the type of weapons the rebels had been armed with, which could only mean one thing, either the Borg or the Federation troupers were drawing ever closer. It hadn’t taken much for both men to work out that calling out and being found would only result in one thing; certain death.

The electrostatic charge had sounded like a crack of thunder echoing around them, causing some of the beams to shift as dust and rubble cascaded down, dislodged by the vibration.

And it was sometime after that Blake thought he heard his radio crackle.

“Docholli, can you hear me?” he whispered.

Docholli had been dozing in a pain driven haze, but he jerked awake at the sound of Blake’s voice. “Who… what..?” he mumbled.

“Do you have your radio on you?” Blake asked still speaking softly.

“No… why….”

“Listen…”

Very faintly indeed, they could now both hear a very tinny voice talking through a crackling speaker.

“Can you see anything?” Blake asked.

“No…”

“Neither can I… can you reach….”

“I think Moss had it …”

“Moss…” Blake’s voice was louder than it had been before, but the only sound which reached him above the faint voice from the radio was the sound of his own laboured breathing.

“Out of it.” Docholli tried. “Must be… lost too much…”

“Don’t say that… think damn it…” Blake muttered to himself. “There has to be a way….”

The voice from the radio stopped.

Blake deliberately hit his head against the brick wall.

The Doctor scratched the back of his head looking at the radio. “No help there,” he offered, handing it back to Deva.

“So is that it, you’re going to give up?” Jenna challenged.

The Doctor frowned glancing in her direction, then back at a woeful looking Deva. “What is it with you lot? I’ve never known such a bunch of pessimists and defeatists all gathered together. You’re all doom and gloom, do you know that?”

“So would you be, if you were fighting an unjust system and you never seem to win,” Avalon shot back from the other side of the time rota.

The Doctor’s frown deepened. “Have you ever thought you might be going about things the wrong way?” he queried.

“What other way is there? Force is the only thing that people like them understand. If you don’t stand up for yourself, no one will do it for you. You have to fight or you loose.”

“Fighting is never the answer; neither are guns…” the Doctor said simply, moving round the central console to stand next to the view screen and punch, twist and tap a few more of the Tardis’ controls. “Violence only breeds more violence…”

“And I repeat; show me a better way, and I’ll take it. They were killing innocent civilians every day, murdering them in their tens of thousands. It’s only now when their weakened by the Great Battle, that we stand any chance of throwing off the yoke of their oppression and freeing the people.”

“Nobel sentiments. And who will be your leader then? Who will govern? How can you be sure that…. Whoa…” the Doctor said interrupting himself. “Looks like… yes got something…” he said sounding pleased. “Bababoomba!, look at that… You’d given up, but I hadn’t…”

Deva, Jenna and Avalon crowded round the Doctor and looked at the viewscreen. They couldn’t understand the looping circles and text which made up Gallifreyan alphabet, but they could see the faint heat signatures of the thermal images on the screen. There were three bodies showing up, one upright, one sitting down and one laying down – which had the coolest body temperature; but for any of them to show up at all, meant they still had to be alive.

“Thank the stars,” Deva said softly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aliens make a reappearance. Is Data trapped with Orac in a turbolift on the Enterprise, and just what has Mudd been up to?

Walking up to the communications panel in main engineering Data looked around him. He had already spotted his quarry, and had surmised how it had happened. Standing as he was, just left of the reactor core, where the main schematic table was a hive of continued activity as Geordi and his group of engineers continued to track down the multitude electrical malfunctions, it was easy to see how the innocuous looking object had been overlooked. It didn’t look out of place, merely part of the ongoing repairs that were surrounding him. Data snapped his tricorder shut and activated the comm on the wall, hoping it would work. “Data to Picard.”

“Picard here Mr Data, what have you to report?”

“Please inform Mr Avon that I believe I have located Orac,” Data said firmly, staring at the grey storage case that Avon had described most accurately. It had been easy to track down the errant machine once Avon had given Data Orac’s key code.

“Acknowledged Mr Data, kindly bring it to the bridge.”

“Yes Captain, at once.”

Switching off the comm panel Data walked over to Orac and bent down next to the carrying case. He tapped the box softly. “Mr Orac are you in there?”

There was no reply.

Data tried again. “Mr Orac are you able to communicate with me?”

Once more Data’s question was met with silence. Data was puzzled for a few moments, but decided to try one final time. “If you are unable to communicate with me, but are nonetheless able to understand what I am saying, I hope my words will bring you some….” Data paused thinking of the right word, “comfort,” was the only one which came to mind however. “It is my understanding that you are unaware of your current location. You are currently in subsection four of main engineering, and are about to be taken to the main bridge of this vessel and reunited with Mr Avon.”

“You will put me down this instant!” Orac said crossly, proving it was perfectly able to converse should it wish to.

Data looked at the box in surprise. “I have not yet picked you up,” he told Orac literally. “Do you object to being carried? Are you capable of teleportation by yourself?”

“I object to being continually interrupted and prevented from being able to go about my most important business,” Orac replied, still sounding extremely put out.

“And what business would that be?”

“It is not necessary for you to know the pertinent facts. And that is my last word on the subject, I am, as I said, extremely busy.”

Data experimentally lifted the carrying case containing Orac, and when the machine didn’t make any mention of the fact, surmised in error, that Orac did not have any gyroscopic abilities to know its relative position. He continued with the conversation as he walked out of Main Engineering. “It is our working hypothesis that it is you who are currently disrupting the _Enterprises_ electrical systems.”

“I am conducting necessary research on this fascinating universe.” Orac offered finally, after they’d walked down the main corridor and turned right heading for an emergency turbolift that had its own dedicated power supply, Data not wanting to take any chances of not arriving on the bridge.

“As an inhabitant of this universe as well as an Officer aboard this vessel, you might say I have a vested interest in the outcome of your research. One which does not include my imminent destruction.”

“Destruction! Destruction! What are you babbling about?”

“I do not babble!” Data pointed out firmly. “Do you have scanning capabilities?”

“What kind of scanning capabilities? I can tell for instance that I’m currently being bumped along a rather uneven surface in a relative South-Eastern direction to where I was before. Is that what you mean?”

Data looked at the carry case in surprise, and altered his hold in order to not swing Orac around so noticeably. “I was talking of a spectrographic analysis of the unknown hostile ship off to the starboard side of this ship. Preliminary estimates suggest it weighs 2.337 megatons. There is of course also an anomaly off to our portside and…”

“I find the anomaly most fascinating in its complexity,” Orac interrupted. “It’s interaction with the quasi linear transformation matrix is of special interest, given that the triple pathway that emanate from the n x m vector are seemingly in constant flux. Essentially we are seeing a convergence of three multidimensional time lines trying to coexist along the same astral plane.”

“That is indeed fascinating, “Data agreed, getting caught up in the pure thrill of the discussion. “Early analysis has shown that its waveform and electrical resonance pattern are not behaving in a correct manner as described by Newton’s Law 68th Edition. The magnetic quality of the boson particles are decidedly off vector and are also not of a pattern that we have thus far seen. Additionally the Delta, Blue, and Black light properties are microns off their expected core spectrums,” he said repeating the same information he had given to Captain Picard many hours ago.

“How does that theorem explain the repositioning of the stellar matter which seems to be occurring along the leading edge of the particle wave?”

“I do not believe that we have reached a theory on that as yet. Tell me, what do you know of Stellar Cartography?” Data said entering the turbolift bound for the bridge.

The hatch lead into a short service crawl way, narrow and cramped, filled with wires and looping coils of power cables; it was dark and didn’t smell that enticing, but then Dayna didn’t intend to stay long. The ladder attached to the vertical crawl way was barely serviceable, the rungs too narrow to be properly comfortable, the spacing between each rung awkward causing a massive overreach, step up or step down. Grimacing in distaste of the grimy feel to the steps, Dayna spared a moment to feel sorry for the humanoid workforce that the Daleks used to service their ships, it had to be back breaking work. The ladder was also short, only leading from the access panel in the ceiling below, up to the service tubes about a metre further on above. There was no extension leading from the access panel to the floor of the corridor below.

As quietly as she could, moving with lithe grace, Dayna let go of the last rug of the latter and jumped the last seven feet to land as quietly as a cat in between the two panicking Daleks.

It was a brave and considerably foolish move, both creatures having already discharged their weapons as they struggled with failing systems. That they hadn’t yet managed to fatedly wound each other, Dayna considered bad luck, but she was there to rectify that.

Moving quickly Dayna firmly attached another couple of her inventions to the Daleks, small but powerful devices designed to drain power from electrical systems. They was normally used to move stored power from one part of the space station to another, either so a repair could be carried out, or else to boost a system which needed an temporary increase of power.

Almost at once the two Daleks movements became sluggish as their systems began to drain, the sand bots having already dissolved their force fields.

Riker’s boots hitting the solid floor of the corridor made far more noise than Dayna had. He looked at the Daleks, now moving at a slow crawl, the lights at the top of their domes blinking sluggishly, their garbled words incomprehensible. "Will those things eventually kill them?” he asked curious.

“No, I don’t think so, more’s the pity, but as long as they’re locked on, they won’t be able to power up again, and of course by then the sand bots will have probably digested a goodly portion of their electronics anyway.” Dayna said critically assessing the machine closest to her.

“Is there a maximum amount of power your things can hold before they’ll… you know?”

“Explode? No, they’re perfectly safe, they discharge the charge they draw on a continuous cycle. They won’t suddenly go bang, unless you’d like me to make them?”

“No, not right now thank you. The idea is tempting I must admit, but I think we need to concentrate on getting back to the _Enterprise_ and gaining reinforcements.”

“Do you think there are any more of them on board here?”

Riker pushed against one of the Dalek’s eyestalk; it moved with only a token resistance. “They seem to travel in threes. We saw one of them out there, these two in here so…”

“We should be ok,” Dayna finished. “First things first then we need to find a way to take off and make this baby fly.”

“No, first things first, we secure this vessel, close the doors and make sure we really are the only ones aboard, and then we take off.”

“What do we do with these two?”

“That is the question, isn’t it.”

“And one we need to solve pretty quickly I should think. I wonder what’s in here?”

“Be careful,” Riker started to say, but his words came too late as by then Dayna had already opened the door, or rather it had opened at her proximity.

Dayna looked inside the room, which was oddly empty, not that big, with had a grilled floor. “What do you think this is used for?” she asked Riker.

Skirting round the Daleks Riker peered into the featureless room. “No idea, but…”

“Just what I was thinking.” Dayna agreed. “Give me a hand would you?”

Without ceremony Riker and Dayna pushed the two still Daleks into the room and stepped away from the entrance to see if it would close. It did, whooshing shut silently. Dayna looked at the faceplate beside the door which she hadn’t needed to use, and taking out one of her gun’s fired it at the rectangular silver metal, fusing it in a show of sparks.

“You’re a bit handy with that aren’t you?” Riker remarked.

“Just making sure they can’t get out again.” Dayna replied, taking a step toward the door, which did not open this time. “Seems to have done the job.”

“Good, now let’s see about securing the rest of the ship. I want to get that ramp closed as soon as possible.”

“You’ll have no argument from me on that one.” 

“I’m sure that’s good to know,” Riker said dryly raising an eyebrow.

Dayna grinned in response. Holding her weapon in front of her, chose the corridor behind her, and quickly walked away searching for any further hostiles, her attention totally focused on the task at hand.

Shaking his head, Riker drew his own gun and walked off in the opposite direction. 

Dayna encountered several doors most of which would open at her presence. Those that didn’t she tried touching the faceplate, and if that still didn’t work, she shot the lock, fusing the door closed. It was in this manner that she quickly travelled to the rear of the ship and found the ramp leading down to ground below. There were a couple of faceplates either side of the bulkheads to the ramp proper; the second one operating the door, which she promptly closed before the Daleks on the surface knew what was happening.

Dayna pondered on the lock. There was no way she could lock it, as there were no controls that she could see, nor did she know if it could be opened remotely. On the premise that it might be possible to do so, she attached another one of her power draining devices to the operating system, willing to bet that without power cycling through it’s electrical systems the door would fail to open.

Like Dayna, Riker encountered several rooms; again most of them opened to his presence, and those which didn’t he took the time to prise the faceplate away from the wall so he could cut several of the wiring locking the door shut permanently. Some of the rooms had various boxes stacked in them, one had a set of benches, a third pieces of equipment which he didn’t recognise. 

The control room, when he found it, opened up directly under the dome shape of the saucer and wasn’t like anything Will Riker had seen before; and he had piloted a great many spacecraft as a Starfleet Officer. It felt and looked conceptually alien, yet it was stark and utilitarian. Big screens angled downwards slightly from the walls, some appeared to be displaying power levels, or levels of something or another, one was clearly a viewscreen showing the view outside, a third was connected to what Riker thought perhaps was the engine room, which appeared to be Dalek free, the fourth a blank. There were no chairs to sit down on, no touch screens either. In the place of touch screens were toggles, switches and dials. Their writing was incomprehensible straight lines sticking out from and to each other at various intervals. 

The floor was raised in front of the screens and switches connected to the main floor level by a sweeping slope, making the centre portion of the room lower in the middle, but there was no obvious command position to go with it as far as Riker could see.

Walking up the ramp, the _Enterprise’s_ First Officer tried to see if there was anything that resembled a pilot’s position that would allow him to take the ship into orbit.

“How are you doing?” Dayna asked joining Riker in the control room a few minutes later.

“I think I’ve just figured out the rudimentary controls why?”

“Well you’ve obviously not been watching the viewscreen above you.”

“Oh?” Riker said looking up.

Several of the Daleks left on the surface of Sarran had clustered together at what would be the foot of the ramp and had started to shoot at their own ship.

“I would say strap yourself in, but we don’t appear to have that option. So just hold on tight, lets see what I can do,” Riker said grimly pressing what he hoped was the external rocket power up system, feeling only marginally gratified when a throb of power and vibration could be felt through the soles of his feet. “Here we go…”

“Kindly hand me the laser welder with the blue handle,” Worf said holding out his hand expectantly. He was laying on his back half in the open panel on the _Liberator’s_ flight deck just to the right of Zen’s internal sensor housing.

“How much longer do you think it’s going to take?” Cally asked fretfully, kneeling beside him, keeping one eye on what Worf was doing, and the other on the _Liberator’s_ viewscreen. “Zen have we been spotted yet?”

\+ Negative.+

“Yes well, I’m sure it’s only going to be a matter of time,” Tarrant put in from his position lounging against the wall near the viewscreen so he could also see what the _Enterprises’_ Chief of Security was doing as well as watching for the enemy craft which everyone knew were laying in wait for them.

“I will complete the task much faster if I a m not being constantly interrupted,” Worf semi growled. He had burnt himself several times, delicate tasks were not his forte and his patience was wearing thin.

“But you do seem to be taking an inordinately long time to complete this invisibility shield,” Tarrant pointed out, moving from his position to saunter across the flight deck to check out the readings from the pilots console.

“It is not an invisibility shield,” Worf grumbled loudly. “It is called a cloaking device. Cally kindly hand me a couple of the data wafers. D’Son move your light a bit more too the right so I can complete the weld with my eyesight intact,” Worf instructed.

Lieutenant D’Son was cramped in a small space to Worf’s right, just in front of Cally, where he could illuminate Worf’s workspace with his palm light into the panel so Worf could see what he was doing clearly. “Yes sir,” he responded moving as directed.

Everything was quiet for a couple of moments except for the click then slight fizz and flare of light that accompanied Worf’s cold fusion spot welds.

A silence which was broken by Alexander Mudd. “Does anyone fancy a drink?” I found some in the cupboards back there and thought they were just the ticket,” Alex suggested entering the flight deck carrying one of Vila’s drinks trays with an assortment of glasses and bottles of coloured liquid.

Cally looked up. “I see you’ve found the galley,” she said lightly. “Vila usually keeps it well stocked. You can put the tray down over there in the centre of the table, where it usually goes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Alex grinned with a mock salute.

Towson also entered the flight deck half a minute later, also carrying a tray.

Tarrant looked up, eyeing the food with interest. It had been hours since anyone had stopped to have anything to eat and drink, one reason that the tension was so high. “Making ourselves at home, I see,” he commentated.

Towson walked over to him and offered him some of the food. They were only small and light bites of various colours, sizes and textures. Tarrant used to ships rations hesitated before picking up something that was a small roll of something wrapped in what could have been pastry, as the security guard defended his position. “I was told to keep an eye on our guest here, so I thought I’d lend a hand. We won’t be effective if we’re hungry and thirsty as well as tired,” he pointed out.

“Yes, that is a good point. You are all of course most welcome to the food in our galley,” Cally agreed before turning back to watch Worf. “You need to forge a connection there – between your devise and the auto-navigator, that thing there…” she pointed out.

“Do you know the polarity of the auto-navigator?” Worf queried.

“No, but I have this,” Cally continued handing Worf a semi-transparent box about the size of two packs of playing cards. “We have found that it function much the same as a multimetre.”

“How do I use it?”

“You take these two disks from the top of it, and place them on the device you want to test, then you press this. If the circuit is complete you will see a holographic impression of the circuit and its voltage will be displayed here. Avon sometimes uses it when he is checking a transducer calibration.”

“What happens if there is a break in the circuit?”

“The box will go red. You also need to forge a connection to the detector unit. We carry spares of those if you need to add a back up device or increase the power coupling.”

Muttering beneath his breath, Worf picked up the small blow torch he was using and prepared to continue making the necessary connections. He had originally thought that curving the paired series of electrostatic lenses in order to produce parallel beams of light, bent to the correct angle, had been difficult. If the refractive diffusion and index had been off by more than 0.02 microns, then the cloak would fail. But by his third attempt Worf had overcome the problems in working with alien technology, and had built the remainder of the cloaking device without a problem.

Worf had then carried out a very basic test of his invention in one of the _Liberator’s _lab’s. The cloaking device had ‘disappeared itself’ from both the _Liberators_ internal sensors and Lt D’Son’s tricorder when the cloak had been switched on, Worf’s own tricorder sacrificed in the building of the device itself. If asked, Worf would have described the cloak as rudimentary but functional. However constructing the precisely curved lens now looked like child’s play in comparison with the reminder of Worf’s task which was to connect the cloaking device up to the _Liberator_. 

The cloak which drew processes from the ships sensors, shields, navigation and engineering sections had been increasing complex as the build had progressed. The most problematic part for Worf had been the translation and conversion of measurements and substitution of various materials; the _Liberator_ was both like and not like the _Enterprise_ in the design and concept of several key components, and he had already spent countless hours trying to sort it out.

A drink appeared by Worf’s elbow.

He growled. “Do not bother me with such things,” he snapped.

“You need to stop for a five minute brake and eat and drink something,” Cally responded. She was anxious to get going and rescue Blake and the rest of the _Liberator’s_ crew, but she had recognised the wisdom in Towson’s words.

“Klingons are able to go for long periods without the need for sustenance,” Worf grumbled back.

“That is good, we Aureans have much the same physiology. However, should anything happen to you, then no one aboard this ship is equal to finishing the task.”

“I am almost done. I will stop then.”

“How long is almost?”

“It will go much faster without your constant interruptions….”

Silence reigned on the bridge of the _Liberator_ for a few moments while everyone else had something to eat and drink. Towson chatting with Mudd, finding they got on well, notwithstanding Mudds rather cavalier attitude to life in general. They we roughly the same age, and had the same sort of interests despite originating from different time lines.

Having consumed a fair few of the snacks on offer as well as a couple of drinks, Tarrant had then returned to familiarising himself with the _Liberator’s _controls, finishing the task he’d started when Klegg and his men had been around. It was due to this diligence that he saw the first sign of trouble when it arrived. A apparent series of ranging shots falling far short of their target as the first cluster of alien ships appeared from the dark side of the moon.

“I hope you’re almost done, as we’re about to have company,” he called out loudly. “I think we’re out of time, here they come. Worf your invisibility shield is either going to work or it is not - either way I think we’re about to find out.”

“I am almost there,” the Lieutenant confirmed.

“Almost is not going to cut it this time.”

“Zen, are you able to speed up the connection time and assist Worf?”

\+ Confirmed. + Zen agreed.

Worf had not seen the _Liberator’s_ ability to repair itself before and watched as a serious of small spine like tentacles appeared from all sides to literally fuse and grow into the cloaking device nestled between the auto-nav and sensor circuits.

“It would have saved an awful lot of time if I had known this ship had the ability to do that,” he said almost reproachfully, openly watching Zen in amazement.

Cally stood up. “Oh no, he couldn’t have done that before. The ship is able repair itself, but any upgrades Avon and I make usually has to be done manually. Zen was only able to assist as you were nearly there yourself.”

“I only needed five more minutes,” Word admitted.

“Well, five minutes or not, we’re out of time, you’d better find something to hang on too everyone. Here they come. Worf, Cally someone, how do we activate the damn shield now we have one?” Tarrant cried as fleet of ten ships came into view.

“Zen, activate cloaking device,” Cally instructed, as all eyes turned to watch the viewscreen in horror.

\+ Confirmed. +

“Zen, confirm the _Liberator_ is able to change course to these co-ordinates on my mark…” Tarrant said tapping in a course correction.

A beat, then. + Confirmed, course correction accepted and laid in. _Liberator _will change course on your mark. + Zen agreed.

“They’re going to hit us,” Mudd cried in alarm as the ships continued in a straight line on an intercept course. “Can they still see us, did the invisibility thing fail?”

“Cloaking Device,” Worf muttered, now at Vila’s station preparing the ship to launch it’s full compliment of weapons at the aliens.

\+ The cloaking device is functioning correctly. + Zen said firmly.

“But they’re not changing course,” Cally said moving to stand next to Worf. “Worf prepare a salvo to fire in five, four, three…”

“Belay that,” Tarrant snapped his long fingers stretching then gripping the _Liberator’s_ controls more firmly. “I believe they can see we’re not there, but they’re not convinced so are still coming. Hold your nerve.”

“Tarrant do something,” Mudd said loudly.

“Steady… wait until we can see the whites of their eyes?”

“Until you’ve killed us you mean..

“Now Zen, Mark,” Tarrant said pulling straight back on the control sticks of the _Liberator,_ who shot straight upwards, as if caught by an invisible fishing line.

Below them the alien ships broke in all directions, most going to the left and right of where they believed the _Liberator_ to be, while one held firmly on the collision cause.

“All stop Zen, bring us round,” Tarrant instructed. “Maintain cloak. Have we lost them do you think?”


	15. Chapter 15

Servalan inspected her nails in boredom. Then realised the action was wasted as Hal Mellanby couldn’t see her in the conventional sense of the word, and Ilesha was paying her no attention either.

Before they had left, Dayna had started a small fire in a disused metal drum of some kind. There had been signs that it had been used for that purposes before, the bottom of it still partly filled with charcoal and partly burnt wood.

It had made the fire catch quickly and now Ilesha was sitting fairly close to the flames for warmth where she was still shivering.

Ilesha’s wet clothes were also warming and drying in front of the flame.

There had been a couple of old jackets at the back of the cave as well, and she had put one of these on, anxious to get dry as soon as possible. Servalan had done the same and had surprised everyone by fashioning a kind of clotheshorse next to the fire to dry their wet clothes as quickly as possible, though naturally hers were closest to the fire and would dry first.

The flames danced around the small cave, occasionally cracking and spitting as a bit of sap or bark was caught. The flames gave an eerie yet warm glow, allowing shadows to shift and play, constantly moving against the walls.

“I can’t imagine what taking so long. I thought they’d be back by now. You don’t think they’ve run into trouble do you?” Servalan offered with a sigh, holding her hand out to examine her nails once more. One had broken in the tunnels and her varnish had chipped.

Hal shifted against the crate he was sitting on, near the cave’s only entrance and exit. Riker had placed it there before they’d left, situating it close to the wall, so the older man would also have something to lean against. Servalan was right, he couldn’t see her in the conventional sense, but he did have a sonar type image of the cave and it’s occupants thanks to his seeing-eye device. “I’m sure they’re fine. They’ll be back as soon as they can,” he said sounding relaxed and unworried.

Ilesha looked over her shoulder at her adopted dad. “Do you think that father?”

“When have you ever known your sister to get herself into a scrape she can’t get out of. Dayna is able to take care of herself, and I’m willing to wager Riker is cut from the same cloth. All we need to do is give them a little time to sort things out, that’s all.”

“So she’ll come back for us?”

“Of course she will,” Hal reassured.

“Those are the sentiments of a fool,” Servalan said, unable to stay silent any longer. “There are a hundred and one things that could have gone wrong! But of course, let’s hope for all our sakes that you’re right.

We can’t stay down here forever, we would die of hunger and thirst for one thing. What we should be doing is making other plans just in case.”

Hal found himself nodding in agreement. “That might not be a bad idea. There is nothing wrong in putting together a contingency plan.”

“I’m glad you agree. Firstly I’ll need a gun.”

“Why?”

“So I’ll have something to protect us with of course.”

“I’m not in my dotage yet. Despite appearances, I’m a fairly good marksman.” Hal said mildly, adjusting himself so his gun was held securely across his lap.

Eyeing him with a look of disgust Servalan signed, realising she wouldn’t get the weapon without a fight, for the moment at least. “You can relax,” she said sounding resigned to their current circumstances. “I don’t want the weapon, I’m just talking that’s all. We do need to come up with a back-up plan in case they don’t come back for us.”

“They will come back. We don’t need to make a stupid plan,” Ilesha said defensively.

Servalan smiled. “Of course, think that way if you must my dear, you are only a child after all.

Your father understands. So what I have been thinking is this. We’ll give your sister if you can call her that, and the lovely Will a couple more hours, and then after that I’ll go topside, I think it’s called, and see if I can broker a peace between us and whoever is shooting things up, so we can all get out of here. How does that sound?”

“It’s ok, ’suppose,” Ilesha said with a nod.

Hal looked sightlessly into the flickering flames. He was well aware that Sleer was trying to play him, and had no intention of letting her get the upper hand. “And what makes you think that they’ll listen to you?”

Servalan’s voice practically purred. “Oh, that’s the good part! One might say I’m a rather… practised negotiator.

It’s part of my day job, and one I’m very good at if I do say so myself.”

“Well you had to be good at something I suppose,” Ilesha said with a fairly good impression of Dayna’s glare.

“Ilesha, you will apologise, right now,” Hal said immediately.

“What? Why should I?

All she does is complain and make nasty comments about everything,” Ilesha retorted.

“If we were at home right now, then you would be sent to bed without your supper, and an extra 2 hours study time.”

“Well, we’re not at home, are we? We’re stuck here in this horrible cave, and it’s all her fault!” Ilesha gave her father a decided glare, which she then turned on Servalan.

Servalan’s eyes narrowed before she deliberately made herself open them and smile. “It’s all right, Mr Melanby, I can understand your daughters fear,” she said pleasantly.

“After all we are stuck down here, in the dark and unknown.”

“We’re not stuck down here,” Ilesha corrected. “My father and I are not stuck anywhere. This is our home, and we know everything about it. We can leave here whenever we want. Unlike you. You had to be rescued by my sister and Will.”

“And I am grateful that they did so, which is why I intend to look after you.”

“Is that right?”

“Ilesha, you must apologise right this instant,” Hal said warningly.

“I will not. Why did they have to rescue her anyway? What good is a negotiator, whatever that means? Does that mean that she can fire weapons, run and hide and escape her enemies?

Fish and hunt and swim and climb?

If she can’t then what is good is she?”

Servalan listened to Ilesha’s tirade and suddenly decided to find it funny.

Here she was the most powerful woman in the known galaxy, incognito it was true, being spoken of in such a dismissive manner by a mere chit of a girl. “Oh you are a firecracker aren’t you! My, my, your feathers have certainly been ruffled, but I promise not to take offence as you’re only young. And as amusing as this has been, if you’ll now excuse me, I’m going to catch a little sleep. If your equally charming sister and Riker fail to return as I predict, then I will need to look my best when I go and negotiate a safe passage for all of us off this primitive planet, won’t I?”

Nibbling on his thumb was a bad habit that Picard couldn’t seem to break in times of worry when there was little he could do except wait for information to come to him from his officers and other specialists before he could take any decisive action.

The grace period given to him by the Daleks was nearly at an end. He had no intention of surrendering his ship or his crew, doubted they could take on and survive a direct attack by the Daleks, and with no one from the nearest Starbase able to hear them; their signal either blocked by the continued plague of electrical malfunctions or by the Daleks themselves, he was quickly running out of options.

Donna Nobel had proved to have very little actual knowledge, and though he still felt she was playing her cards close to her chest, it was fairly obvious to Picard as he watched her stare at the viewscreen with continued wide-eyed wonder or disbelief, that she wasn’t used to space travel, so he doubted she would be much further use to him.

Mr Avon was another matter. Jean-Luc Picard recognised a kindred spirit and player when he saw one. He was perfectly certain that the younger man was withholding pertinent facts which may or may not help their current situation if only he could find a way to get through to him.

The emergency turbolift doors opening just to the right of the main viewscreen caught everyone by surprise. Picard was about to summon security, just in case, when Data stepped out carrying a dark grey and black case. Turning from the depressing view of the Dalek ship orbiting the world where Riker was still lost, Picard turned to great his second in command. “Ah there you are Mr Data, glad you could join us, I was beginning to get a little worried. You have it?”

Walking from the turbolift onto the bridge, Data stopped in front of the Captains command chair and put the case containing Orac down on the deck in front of it and prepared to open it up. “Yes, Captain. Mr Orac and I have been having a fascinating discussion about the relative position of the stars.

“Oh yes, and what conclusion have you reached?” Picard said drawing closer to look at Orac as he was taken out of his travelling case. 

“If you give me a moment Captain, I will remove Orac from his case, so we can both explain our hypothesis.”

“Very well Lt Commander, carry on.”

“Thank you, sir.

Jean-Luc Picard wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Avon had given him very little insight into the machine, other than endowing it with the power of self-determination and thought. He’d given no description of the device, which Picard had started to think of as an entity; however, he was decidedly underwhelmed by the site of a clear plastic box the size of a small utility crate, filled with clear plastic rods, the odd bit of wiring and flashing lights. To Picard, Orac resembled nothing more than a junior grade children’s science project. Picard’s imagination had created an impressive looking device, but what he was looking at was decidedly underwhelming.

“Is that it?” the Captain asked looking at Avon for confirmation, not that he doubted his second in command. “This is Orac?”

“Oh yes, that’s it all right,” Avon said with a somewhat sardonic smile, knowing perfectly well that Orac could hear and understand everything, and just how touchy it could be if it felt slighted. “Orac, please introduce yourself to Captain Picard.”

“Why should I wish to do that?” Orac responded after a beat.

Picard looked at the box of lights in astonishment. “I’m er… very pleased to meet you,” he offered.

“As you should be,” Orac agreed.

Picard looked in Data’s direction. He was very used to working with his second in command and had the utmost respect and confidence in him. The fact that Data was an artificial lifeform was something he rarely thought of anymore. Even Lore, Data’s nefarious and deluded brother hadn’t spoken in such a fashion.

“Oh, and why is that?” he asked intrigued nevertheless.

“Because I have a far greater mental capacity than you humans, and having observed the chaos both on and outside your vessel for the past few days, I believe I am one of only two individuals currently able to get anyone out of this current mess alive.”

Picard was rarely short of words, but this time he was for a few moments.

Orac’s statement hung in the air, while Avon let out a short bark of laughter. 

“Modest as always,” he suggested.

Captain Picard turned to Data. “Is this true?”

Data nodded. “I’m afraid that is a distinct possibility Captain,” he said softly.

“This I’ve just got to hear,” Avon stated, still sounding amused.

Picard shot him a look. “You’re not helping you know. Pray continue Mr Data.”

“Yes, sir. It transpires that as artificial life forms, both Mr Orac and I have naturally eidetic memories and have been able to chart the positions of our home stars as we know them.” Data started to say.

Picard held up his hand. “One moment please, the answer to our problem lays in the stars?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Like a horoscope you mean?” Donna asked, moving closer to the centre of the bridge. She’d had nothing to add to the conversation up to that point in time, but her friend Nerys did a good line in horoscopes and she felt she might be able to help after all. Like the Captain she was fascinated by her first glimpse of Orac, she hadn’t been sure what she was expecting, except now she realised she’d thought of him of something along the lines of a small robot. So a talking clear box was far more interesting. 

Data turned to Donna. “Not exactly,” he said carefully.

“Then how do you mean?”

“By using Earth as a starting point, since the Sol system appears to be one of the few common denominators we could find, between our knowledge of our universes, we have been able to conclusively prove to our satisfaction that our relative star systems are out of alignment.”

“Eh?” Donna said looking rather confused once more. “Come again?”

“You’re talking about physical stars?” Picard suggested.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you concur?” Avon asked Orac.

“Well of course I do, since it was Data and me who carried out the research together,” Orac snapped back. “Now if everyone would kindly be quiet, perhaps Data can finally get to the point.”

“Go on Mr Data,” Picard said looking aggrieved at Orac’s tone, but nodding encouragingly to Data nonetheless.

“Indeed. To test our theory, Mr Orac and I used a 12 point radial velocity measurement to confirm that we each originate from a different part of the space/time continuum, not merely another galaxy as we first thought. The transitioning planets appear to be increasing along what we have termed ‘fault lines’ which are incrementally increasing vectors of 102, what might colloquially be called rips in the very fabric of space.

These rips will continue to expand until and unless equal gravimetric force is applied, a proverbial a band-aid if you will.

If we do nothing, the galaxies will cease to coexist and converge causing mutual destruction in less than 10 standard days.”

“Orac, is that correct?” Avon asked, though not sounding in the slightest bit worried.

He was used to Orac’s doom and gloom prophesies.

“Well, of course, it is. I do not understand your constant need for disputing the facts. Our working hypothesis suggests that the so-called anomaly has not only been the epicentre of the disturbance as one would expect but may offer our greatest chance of reconstruction and reintegration too. If we can slow down, stop and then reverse its expansion, our separate universes should spring back into their correct alignments.”

Stunned by the stark warning, after spending the best part of the last couple of days trying to figure out what was happening and why Picard drew a breath. “So you’re saying that the anomaly is the key to everything that has happened so far, and in order to set everything right again, we need to somehow stop its expansion and heal the rip in time and space it is causing? Mr Data are you sure?”

“Yes, quite sure Captain.”

“But you and Orac don’t yet have a plan to effect this?”

“That is correct Captain. While we have been able to collate the information we have, we do not have a solution at this time. It was not until we pooled our knowledge that we realised we were looking at a puzzle, and while we have a great many of the pieces, we do not have them all. At the moment you should treat our hypnosis as a working theory only.”

“OK, you said that you had most of the missing puzzle pieces,” Picard queried.

“Yes, sir, that is quite correct.”

“So we are missing some of the answers?”

“Some of the possible answers yes sir.”

“Do you have any idea what form they might take?”

“This conversation is growing excessively tedious. It seems that the people on board this ship are no more intelligent than Vila, and that might be a generous assessment. Data has given you a thorough explanation of the imminent threat we are under, even though the language he used was somewhat embellished. If we had been able to fit everything together neatly, we would have said so.

Kindly refrain, therefore, from asking nonsensical questions.” Orac told Picard firmly.

Picard looked at Orac with growing annoyance. The machine might be brilliant, but it’s manners were not.

But it was Avon who spoke first. “Orac kindly remember your manners and behave in a civil if not civilised fashion,” Avon said firmly. “The Captain was not speaking to you. If you can not help in this matter then you will be silent.”

“I have not said I cannot help. I merely stated the obvious. Data has explained what we know, and since there are gaps in that knowledge it is logical to assume we are therefore missing information. Confirming information is missing more than once is a waste of time.”

Picard drew a breath, remembering something Donna had told him.

“Data you said that you and Orac have worked out you are from different universes, rather than different galaxies?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Could you also be from different times as well?”

“I…I confess captain we had not thought of that. We have acknowledged that our technology has developed differently, but is mostly on a par with each other…”

“So time could be the missing piece?”

“What are you thinking Captain.”

Picard turned to Donna. “I think Miss Noble here is both from a different time and different universe.

Something she said about the makeup of London and where she lived. Pre the eugenics wars, so old earth history, London was the capital city of the United Kingdom, since 75 AD, so almost at the start of human history. Will that help to fill in the missing pieces?”

“It is possible Captain. “Miss Noble, are you able to tell me what year you are originally from?”

Donna who had been following the conversation, well as much of it as she could, wished desperately for the Doctor once more. “I’m from 2008, but I don’t see how that is going to help you much,” she said honestly. “I can’t be the missing piece of the puzzle since I’ve been travelling with the Doctor, we’ve visited many different times, planets and even different galaxies. Or maybe you’re picking up on my Huon particles…

the Doctor said I may still carry a few…”

“I have never heard of a Huon particle. What are its properties? Why must you insist in speaking gobbledygook?” Orac snapped back.

Donna slapped the top of Orac. “Oi, watch it you, I don’t like rude people, and certainly won’t settle for a rude laptop.”

“Laptop… what is that, is it something to do with a Huon particle?” Orac replied immediately.

“Ah, a laptop is a term used in the mid-1980s through to the early 2000s before the term gave way to a tablet. The Modern Oxford Dictionary states that a laptop was considered to be a small computer that can work with a battery and be easily carried. It is indeed an accurate description of you.” Data said factually.

“I am not a computer. My creator Ensor referred to me as a highly sophisticated artificial intelligence. I am sentient, whereas a computer is not.”

“Just like me, I am capable of evolution, learning from the people, experiences and environs around me.”

“Exactly,” Orac agreed. “Whereas a computer is only the sum of its parts, not capable of independent thought and reasoning.”

“As fascinating as this conversation may be,” Picard interrupted firmly. “It does not address the matter of the rather large and hostile Dalek ship just off the starboard side of our vessel.”

“As to that Captain, it’s perfectly obvious what you must do,” Orac responded sarcastically.

“And that would be?”

“I have not yet been able to gain complete knowledge of your ship, but if the weapons and armaments you carry can not destroy the enemy, you need to get out of here as soon as you can.”

Picard shot a furious look at Orac. “Do you mean to tell me you are the one controlling my ship, causing all manner of electrical disturbances?”

“Well of course I am; you must appreciate that a ship of this size, takes a while to acclimatise to.”

“Then desist immediately,” Picard practically growled, turning to Avon.

“Did you know about this? Were you aware that your little toy was causing extensive disruption to my ship while you were enjoying our hospitality after we rescued you?”

Avon practically glowered at Orac in turn; both for giving the Captain and everyone on the bridge and idea of his true capabilities, and for implicating him in turn, if he told the truth. “Orac you will cease any programmes you are running that may or are disrupting the normal operations of this ship. May I remind you once more Captain that I have been largely unconscious and unaware of my surroundings since I was brought on board. Further, I was not the one to transport Orac aboard; though, as it was found with me, then whoever took it from my vessel should have been courteous to keep my property with me.”

“You are denying that you gave your machine any instructions to tamper with my ship?

“Categorically. From what I’ve been told, I believe your malfunctions started to appear while I was unconscious; I believe Dr Crusher mentioned that you thought I might have been telepathic and causing the disruption in my unconscious state. How then could I have given Orac any instructions?

And how could I have foreseen my timely rescue, since I was unconscious when my crew put me into the life capsule in the first place.”

Picard drew a breath and his shoulders slumped. “Yes, well, you may have a point there,” he conceded. “Just order that infernal machine of yours to stop doing whatever it is he is doing.”

Avon shot Picard a look. “I believe I have already done so.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ve got it!” Donna cried excitedly. “You can scan things right Orac, I’m sure you said you can yes?”

“I am able to scan items as one of my lesser functions, yes, but I do not see why I would want to do so.”

“My lightbulb,” Donna said turning from Orac to look at Picard and then Avon. “The one I had with me when I was taken from the Tardis. I mean, don’t you see… if your timey stuff works… then a part of a real-time machine that you can scan… might be the missing piece of your puzzle, don’t you think, or have I missed the point again?”

“Not this time,” Picard said firmly, moving to tap his combadge with a look at Orac. “Picard to La Forge. Kindly report to the bridge with the illuminated light bulb that Miss Noble brought with her upon her arrival.”

“We haven’t finished running our tests on it yet Captain.”

“That doesn’t matter Mr La Forge, just bring it to the bridge immediately as your number one priority. Picard out.”

“Look, I don’t mean to interrupt anyone,” Donna interjected, “but you still haven’t worked out how to get rid of the Dalek saucer, and it’s still like hanging there, and not going away.”

“Miss Noble is right Captain. Have you managed to formulate a plan of action?” Data asked carefully.

“Our time will be up in approximately 2 minutes from now.”

“Are you sure you’re qualified to fly this thing,” Dayna said, holding onto the railing behind her for dear life as the Dalek ship wobbled precariously, the floor tilting crazily beneath her feet.

“Would you care to try, it’s not as easy as it looks you know.” Riker snapped as he grappled with controls designed for Dalek suckers which had inbuilt sensors to fine-tune the knobs and other switches and dials on the instrument panels in front of him. The deck of the saucer was also magnetised which helped to hold the Daleks steady at their stations. Human boots and shoes, already wet and caked in mud, sand and just about everything in between, could gain little traction, slipping against the smooth decking in every direction.

“You’re not making it look easy,” Dayna pointed out, making a frantic grab for the railings once more, as she slid further across the deck. In doing so she touched something else on the instrument panel as she skidded by, which made the lights flicker.

“Don’t touch anything,” Riker yelled at her.

“I wouldn’t have to if you kept the floor level.” Dayna shot back.

“It’s not a floor, it’s a deck. Haven’t you ever been in a ship before?” Riker retorted, trying to gauge how high they were, and how much further they had to fly before they would meet the atmosphere. His only guide was the viewscreen in front of him, the alien instruments and cyphers totally indecipherable.

“Oh yes, I have several parked next to my home, and neglected to tell you while we were running for our lives,” Dayna said sarcastically. “I thought to my self, we’ll save ourselves the hard way. No, of course, I’ve not.”

“Sorry,” Riker said sounding abashed. “Whatever this type of alien spacecraft is…”

“I think they call themselves Daleks?”

“Why do you say that?”

“That’s what they were saying when they called that man the killed their enemy.”

“Hit that switch over there will you… no, the green one, I hope it’s the equalisers, judging from the controls I’ve figured out so far, it should be round there somewhere…”

Dayna laughed grimly. 

“As I was saying, they don’t exactly teach you to fly Dalek spacecraft in Starfleet Academy you know.”

“I’d never have guessed!”

Riker grinned suddenly and let out a short bark of laughter. Dayna grinned back. The saucer wobbled dangerously and they both needed to grab onto the railing. “Whatever happens, this has been one hell of a ride,” Riker suggested.

“I find it exhilarating,” Dayna confessed.

“Then we’ll make a spaceman out of you yet. There has to be a communications panel around here somewhere, someway they can talk to their ship, someway I can talk to mind. Have a look round, see if you can find it.”

“What will it look like?” Dayna asked, then laughed. “Scratch that… I’ll do my best.”

“And that’s all anyone can ask.”

“Easy now… I said easy… dam it, think of it as a giant game of Jenga, or pick up sticks, buck-a-roo, men at work, Tokyo highway… Blimey, you lot are hard work aren’t you? What I’m trying to say is be careful, don’t move too fast, and for heaven sake watch where you’re putting your feet!” The Doctor said, directing his work crew, made up of Deva, Jenna, Avalon and one of the older boys, Indigo.

The rubble and other debris pinning Blake to the wall and trapping him, Docholli and Moss were rather precariously balanced and certainly unstable. 

Several in-depth scans of the area showed that it wouldn’t take much to bring it down, and crush the people they were trying to rescue. There was no way through from the front.

Then the Doctor had had an idea. The wall behind Blake was not an external wall, nor was it originally load bearing. If he and a small team were careful and were able to reach Blake’s wall from the other side of it, if they could shore it up properly, then using his sonic to carefully loosen the mortar around the blockwork, they should be able to make a big enough hole in the wall from behind, to allow Blake to step back and out, leaving the rescue team enough space to work in to reach Docholli and Moss too.

It was a lot of if’s, could’s, should’s and possibilities, but it was the only workable plan the Doctor had.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tribble anyone?
> 
> Sorry folks, I won't be around next weekend as I'm away. If I can't post Thursday, I'll try to get the next installment up midweek or make the following Saturday's longer. xx

“No, I mean really, we need to go very slowly,” the Doctor said, handing a brick back to Indigo, then turning round more fully as Avalon and Deva started lifting the rubble around the wall at an alarming rate. “Stop that right now.”

“We need to get them out of there as soon as possible,” Avalon countered.

“You heard what Blake said, Docholli and Moss are injured, we need to help them.”

“And if you carry on moving things around willy-nilly you’ll be helping them into an early grave,” the Doctor snapped back in turn. “I know what I’m doing. We need to be slow and careful.”

“We need to get them out quickly.”

The Doctor sighed. “Why won’t anyone ever listen to me. I’ve done this before. I can get them out, but you need to…”

What the Doctor was about to say however was lost, as he ducked just in time to stop a Borg laser beam from slicing his head off. Instead, the beam hit the wall, causing a shower of rubble, but little else, the wall held firm.

“Take cover, “ Jenna cried, returning fire as she ducked behind a desk and manage to get off a few shots at the Borg soldier.

“We won’t have too many shots before they’ll adapt, you need to aim for their heads,” Avalon said firmly.

The Doctor scrambled to hide behind the desk as well as the Borg fired off another rally. “Has anyone simply tried talking to these people?” he queried. “Do we know why they’re trying to kill you?”

“I would guess that they’re homicidal maniacs,” Jenna shrugged.

“But still…”

“Look if you want to invite them to tea, you can do it some other time,” Avalon suggested. “Blake and my men have to be our priority.”

“Yes,” agreed the Doctor. “And we need to find a way to draw their fire away from that wall.”

“I can do it,” Indigo offered, from across the room hiding behind an overturned filing cabinet. He had hidden there quickly with Deva before the Borg had caught sight of them, so they were so far unscathed. “I can run fast, and so far they seem to want to capture the kids like me, the ones the Feds were going to turn into mutoids, maybe I can lead them away from here.”

“No, there has to be another way,” the Doctor returned, not liking the thought of the teenager putting himself in any further danger. “I could draw them away, a few shots with my sonic would soon get their attention.”

“You’re needed here to free Blake,” Avalon said firmly.

“I’ll go with the kid,” Deva suggested. “There’s a gap in the wall just by me here, we can sneak through it and come at him from behind. We might be lucky and get him the first time, if not, we’ll draw him off for as long as we can.”

Avalon nodded. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t intend to,” Diva said grimly, then punched Indigo lightly on one arm. “You ready kid, follow me and keep close.”

The Doctor frowned. He was used to people not listening to him, but it was still incredibly irritating to watch as each group made the same mistakes as the group before them had, and the group after them probably would a well.

“How much time do you need Doctor?” Deva asked, raising his head just enough to be heard.

A Borg laser beam, missed his left ear by inches causing yet more rubble and dust to fog the air.

“Ten maybe a couple more?” the Doctor replied reluctantly, glancing up at the wall behind him. The Borg’s energy weapon had not broken it but had caused several large cracks to appear in the plaster.

“Wilko.”

With a heavy heart, the Doctor watched Deva and Indigo make a break for the gap in the wall, covering fire given by Jenna and Avalon. For a few moments, nothing happened. The Borg continued to exchange fire with the two women; then came a shout, and the Doctor realised that Deva was deliberately drawing him away as planned.

The Borg moved out of sight.

Avalon stood immediately. “I’ll go and keep watch. Jenna, help him, work as quickly as you can goes without saying yes?”

The Doctor stood and picked up the small two-way radio he’d borrowed from Jenna, turning it back on as he started to sonic the mortar again... 

After the scans had shown heat signatures from Blake, Docholli and Moss, the Doctor had rigged together two-way short wave radio, from the box of spares he kept and had sent the device through to the men attached on the back of a radio-controlled mouse, operated by a small joystick attached to his sonic. “Blake are you there?” he asked.

“Yes, just about. What is going on?” Blake said coughing. “There is dust everywhere, the wall shook, I thought it was going to come down. More of those things?”

“Yes. One of Avalon’s men is drawing them off, with a kid I rescued. We need to work quickly now, you need to be ready.”

“I am. Moss has fallen silent now though, and I can’t get much out of Docholli…” Blake replied in between gasps of breath.

“Understood,” the Doctor agreed, carefully handing a hand-sized chunk of plaster to Jenna, who threw it away across the room. “We might want to be a little quieter than that.”

“Sorry I didn’t think,” Jenna agreed.

“Jenna… are you there?” Blake’s voice came through the radio.

“Yes, I’m here. Don’t waste your breath trying to talk, the air’s pretty thick with dust here too..”

“I was just thinking if I don’t… get out of here…”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“But if I don’t…

“Oi, none of that,” the Doctor muttered. He’d managed to vaporise enough mortar from either side of a small block to gain a finger hold. He pulled experimentally and felt the block move reluctantly at first, but then easier as he wiggled it too and fro. “I think, yes…” he said in relief, as the block came free. Handing the block to Jenna, the doctor put his hand carefully through the hole and met with nothing. He twisted his wrist around and felt in all directions. “I’m through… can you see my hand at all? You should be…. Oh… your jacket…”

“I can’t see you… but yes, that’s me.” Blake’s voice was suddenly much clearer, the relief it held palpable.

The Doctor grinned at Jenna. “See, easy peasy lemon…”

At Jenna’s puzzled expression the Doctor subsided. “Right, let’s get you out now,” he said firmly instead.

Stretching, Servalan woke up from her light sleep, with a yawn. She blinked looking about her in the dark cave, illuminated by the flickering light of the fire that had died down considerably.

Looking around her she wondered if Hal was asleep, or merely resting. It was impossible to tell with the dark glasses he habitually wore, even in the dark cave; his grip on his gun seemed to be firm, however, as both his arms were resting across it, so Servalan ruled out its acquisition for the moment.

Next, she turned her attention to Ilesha. During the time Servalan had been asleep, the girl had got herself dressed again, and was now huddled underneath the coat she’d been wearing, using one of the rucksacks they’d been carrying as a makeshift pillow. Servalan frowned. It was completely unlike her not to wake at the slightest sound, which meant she would have to keep a strict eye on Ilesha if she could move around noiselessly. A silent assassin or an assistant could be a future asset. A silent enemy should be dispatched immediately.

Pursing her lips while Servalan coldly decided Ilesha’s fate, it took her several minutes for her to realise that the young girl was awake, and staring back at her, her eyes narrowed to cat-like slits.

Servalan sighed theatrically. “Well… as we’re still here, and they’re not back yet, I don’t think we can afford to wait any longer. Riker and your sister have obviously run into… difficulties, I don’t think it’s likely we’ll see them again.”

“Don’t you say that,” Ilesha said sitting up immediately, still openly defiant and defending her sister even though a couple of hours had passed. “I bet they’ll have a good reason for not coming back. They’re probably hiding or something…”

“From what pray tell?” Servalan smiled benignly.

“Them things, that are killing everyone.”

“Ah yes. If they’ve managed to avoid capture.”

“Of course they have. Dayna’s the best at playing hide and seek. She’s better than me at spying on the Sarrans.”

“I’m sure sue is. But the level of sophistication we have seen the invaders use, compared to the bows and arrows of your natives can hardly compare.”

Ilesha gave Servalan a sly look. “They managed to hit your leg though didn’t they, for all that.”

“Oh that, a fluke and mere scratch, I can assure you.”

“They are going to come back for us, I know it. They are.”

“Yes dear, you keep thinking that way, you are, after all, only a child.

Your father knows I’m right don’t you Mellanby?” Servalan said stepping around the fire, and away from Ilesha, towards the doorway. She’d seen Hal stir a few moments ago as his adopted daughters' voice had grown louder and more fierce with each exchange.

“It is possible that they may have run into some difficulty yes,” Hal Mellanby said slowly. He had been dozing, but not really asleep, as he’d tried to think his way out of their current situation. He privately acknowledged that Dayna and Riker should have been back some time ago, and as they were not, things did not bode that well for their future.

Therefore his top priority now had to be Ilesha and getting her to safety. His lack of normal sight no longer caused him any problems at home, since had long ago learnt where everything was. But away from the grounded space station, he knew he was going to be reliant on others. And was, therefore, at that moment, more of a liability than an asset. Servalan was, therefore, Ilesha’s best chance of staying alive. “So what is your proposition?”

Servalan looked at Hal in surprise. She had thought she was going to have to battle both of them, but she was quick to take advantage of the suggestion. “Firstly we need communication. I know your transmitter at home wasn’t working, but do you have something portable, that might have been stored here for just such an emergency. I am sure my friends are still in the system.”

“How long are we just going to sit here?” Worf grumbled. “There are no signs of any alien vessels. We are the only ones in this sector.”

Tarrant grinned. “Just a little longer. Not much.

But a tad. I want to be damn sure everyone has either given up or gone home or moved onto other easier targets. Some of the blighters proved to be tricky in the last battle and would hang around just in case. And having nearly walked into their trap last time, it would be idiotic to do so again.”

“Zen, kindly do another 360° orbital scan of our immediate area,” Cally asked with a glance in Tarrant’s direction. She was quite happy for the pilot to be in control, for the moment. She still chafed at the bit to find Blake and the others, though for some reason it didn’t feel as essential as it had seemed before.

The distance was too great to get any real sense of Roj and the others, but the urgency to find him, appeared to be less desperate. Or maybe she was just being fanciful.

The food Alex and Towson had thought to prepare and bring out, coupled with the immediate ‘excitement’ of playing cat and mouse with the aliens several hours ago, had left everyone feeling slightly mellow. Everyone except Worf, who was now anxious to be on his way and find the Enterprise.

\+ Confirmed. There are no vessels in our immediate area. +

“Zen increase range to 15 million specials’.”

“Tarrant no, that is going to put too much drain on our systems.” Cally interrupted. “Belay that order Zen.”

\+ Confirmed. +

“But why, if there is no one in our immediate area, then we will be safe, relatively speaking to wait here a little longer while we recharge our batteries.”

Tarrant pointed out.

Worf huffed. “I dislike waiting.”

“And I prefer it over dying,” Tarrant said immediately.

Worf glared at the pilot, then drew a breath and nodded. “It is better to go into battle, fully prepared, with our energy banks fully charged.” he conceded.

“Zen, how long until our energy banks are fully charged?” Cally asked.

\+ 2 hours, 37 minutes, 47.438 seconds. + Zen said immediately.

“And if we do a long-range sensor scan?”

\+ 6 hours, 36 minutes and 4.25 seconds. +

Tarrant looked at Cally, who in turn included Worf, who reluctantly nodded. “Zen do a 360° orbital scan of our current location, increase range to 15 million specials’.”

\+ Confirmed. There are no vessels within detector range. +

“Excellent. In that case, I’m going to find someplace where I can have a shower, and change my clothing,” Tarrant said stretching the kinks out of his body and hands.

“I too could do with a visit to the bathroom.” Worf decided.

“I will stand first watch if you like?” D’Son offered.

“In that case, I’ll go and make us something more substantial to eat than a few snacks,” Alex suggested, then smiled at Cally. “Care to lend me a hand?”

“Yes, I don’t see why not.”

“Take it easy now, I’ve got you,” the Doctor said, firmly holding onto Blake.

“When I say, take a step backwards, feel with your foot as there’s a bit of a lip, so step up and back, and whatever you do, keep your head down.”

The wall behind Blake had slowly been taken apart one brick or stone/concrete slab at a time, until there was enough room for him to step backwards and out, as long as he moved carefully.

Indigo and Deva had yet to return, and now Avalon had vanished too, chasing away the Borg who were slowly overrunning the Federation mutoid factory, and who showed little sign of leaving. They seemed to have the numbers too, slowly and surely overwhelming the few surviving Federation guards and scientists who had worked in the base.

Aside from Deva and Avalon, and Jenna, who was now covered in brick dust and utterly unrecognisable, the remaining rebels who had attacked the factory were safely inside the Tardis.

“Ok,” Blake agreed, wheezing for breath. The air pocket where he had been trapped remained full of dust particles, and shifting rubble, making it hard for him to draw a proper breath with the beams pressing against his chest.

“Rightio let's try it now, feel with your foot, step up and back,” the Doctor continued, keeping Blake steady, and guiding him backwards. The crack in the wall was slowly widening. The Borg’s laser beam from earlier having destabilised the structure considerably. As a consequence, the hole wasn’t as big as the Doctor would have liked, but he’d reasoned he couldn’t take much more out of his hole and still hope to maintain it.

Moss and Docholli would also need to be brought out through it, so time was more of a critical factor than finesse.

Roj Blake lifted his right foot up and back and still encountered a wall until a second pair of hands encouraged his leg up higher and suddenly there was no longer any barrier. “Thank you, Jenna,” he muttered, searching for the firm ground with his right foot before shifting his weight and slowly wriggling free.

Gasping for breath Blake stepped backwards through the hole, and remained bent double for some few moments. The Doctor and Jenna exchanged a look.

“Are you ok?” Jenna asked putting a hand on Blake’s shoulders.

“Yes, I’m fine, just catching my breath that’s all,” Blake confirmed.

“Good. Now how do we get your friends out,” the Doctor mused, shining the torch Jenna had been using into the hole. “Can we see them from here?”

“Docholli should be to the right, Moss someone in front,” Blake confirmed, straightening.

Jenna gave him a fierce hug causing Blake to wince. “We’ve been in some tough scrapes before,” she offered, letting him go.

“But not much tighter,” Blake confirmed. “Have you heard from the others?”

“Vila’s in the Tardis.”

“The what?”

“My ship,” offered the Doctor. “I found him… or rather he found me first.”

“Avalon and the others?”

“Out hunting those things,”

“Yes, what the hell are they?”

“Deanna calls them the Borg,” the Doctor offered, searching through the limited tools and supplies they had on the floor between them. “I think I can see one of your friends, but his shoulder looks pretty well wedged in by a beam.”

“That’s Docholli,” Blake offered. “He’s a surgeon. What can I do to help?”

Turning from his contemplation of the hole in the wall to Blake, the Doctor sized the bigger man up quickly. “We’re going to need to widen the hole you came through, in that direction,” he said pointing towards the crack.

Blake eyed the wall disfavourably “That’s not going to be easy. Have we got anything around here that we can use to shore it up a bit,” he said looking around him. Nearly everything was rubble and dust. Most of the steel metalwork had fallen on the other side of the wall. 

The Doctor made a help yourself gesture and ducked his head back into the hole, splaying torchlight across the interior surface.

The bright light hitting Docholli’s face roused him from the stupor he’d gradually fallen into. “Enough of that,” he grumbled.

The Doctor grinned unseen, relieved that the other man was at least conscious. “Are you cut or bleeding anywhere. Can you move?”

“Why should I want to do that?”

“You don’t want to be rescued?”

The question brought Docholli up short. He’d been partly dozing, partly slipping into unconsciousness when the Doctor’s light had played across his face and had reacted to it in an almost dreamlike state, thinking he was either somewhere else, or still talking to Blake. Then the question and the Doctor’s voice registered and he realised things had changed.

“Well of course I do, what a damn fool question is that?” he said coming too properly.

“Can you move?” the Doctor repeated. “Or are you completely wedged in. The wall behind you is unstable, we’re not sure how long it’s going to hold.”

“Blake? Moss?”

“Blake is fine, we can’t get to Moss until you’re free,” the Doctor explained.

“So no transmitter,” Servalan mused to herself. She had a gun though, Hal’s, and though she currently held it down by her side, she had very particular plans for its use. Hal had rather unwisely voiced his fears to her, and Servalan had been very quick to reassure him that he and his wretched daughter were safe. She had promised to look after them and had convinced them with honeyed words to follow her out of the cave system. She was rather good at telling people what they wanted to hear after all. It was something she’d cultivated carefully over the years, and something she was very good at.

Promising to keep Hal and Ilesha safe, over the girls heated objections, they were now working their way slowly upwards. Hal said the exit should lead them up to the floor of one of the warehouses.

Servalan reasoning that unless the way was blocked by Riker and Dayna’s bodies, which so far it hadn’t been, then she and her group would be able to get out too.

“I can see steps up ahead,” she announced, playing her torchlight across the bottom step, some twenty metres away. There had been only one working light left when they’d checked and she insisted on having it. “We’re almost there.”

“Father we should wait for Dayna,” Ilesha continued to advise, stopping entirely. “She said she’d be back for us, and she will.”

“Ilesha my dear child, we can no longer be certain of that. This may be the only way for you to be safe.”

“I’m safe with you father,” the younger girl insisted.

Listening to the pair of them, Servalan grit her jaw. She was growing very tired of the chit’s whining voice. Stopping as well, she deliberately turned and smiled.

“Your daughter is right Mellanby,” she said lightly, really this was working out very nicely. “You are both safe here for now. Why don’t I scout up ahead, and call down to you once I know the way is clear, that way you won’t be risking your lives?”

“How do we know you won’t trick us?” Ilesha snapped back.

“Daughter is that any way to behave.”

“You have my word of course,” Servalan replied. “I only want what’s best for everyone. Let me do this one last thing for you, perhaps then you will learn to trust me after all.”

“I don’t,” Ilesha said flatly.

“Yes please Sleer, that would be good of you.” Hal agreed, however.

“Very well.” Turning on her heal, Servalan smirked all the way up to the steps, hesitating only briefly before climbing them quietly, listening out all the while. She could hear no voices, but the trap door was still in place. Pushing on it cautiously she was relieved to see that it moved easily. Drawing a breath and preparing to dazzle anyone who might be up top on the other side, Servalan gave the door a mighty push and let it fall open with a resounding crash as she climbed the last of the steps brazenly.

“Only little me,” she announced brightly stepping through the hatchway. 

It was full daylight outside, blinking in the sunlight Servalan looked round. It was only when her eyes adjusted that she realised what she was looking at…

Walking into the _Liberator’s_ kitchen, Cally was surprised to see a couple of medium-sized clear boxes sitting on one of the countertops. There were air holes in the top of the clear plastic cubes and around the top of all sides. A soft trilling sound could be heard coming from the box closest to her.

Cally turned to Alex in surprise. She knew they had not been on the _Liberator_ before. “These are yours yes?” she asked walking curiously over to them. “You had them aboard your ship.”

“I did,” Alex confirmed. He had brought the cages up earlier and had sworn Towson to secrecy, saying he just wanted to give his pets some fresh air.

They weren’t quite telepathic, but they had something. Cally could feel soothing vibrations coming from them in all directions. They intrigued her. “What are they please? Are they your pets?”

Towson and Alex wandered over to the boxes too. Towson frowned for a few moments, he could have sworn before that there was only one of each creature in each box, where now there appeared to be half a dozen of them.

Alex Mudd smiled. They weren’t his pets as such, they were his business of the moment. “Why yes, of course. Would you like to hold one of them?” he lied smoothly.

“They’re not dangerous? They will not bite me will they?” Cally asked cautiously.

“Bite, no of course not,” Alex confirmed quickly, opening the door of the nearest cage to him and taking out a small silver fluffy ball, with random grey spots on it. The small creature appeared to purr. “Hold it yourself,” he offered.

The small creature snuggled eagerly into Cally’s hands and offered a contented trill, which seemed to travel right through her. She signed in pleasure. “What is it called?”

“Do you like it? She’s called a Tribble.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I wasn't able to post last week. I had a good, if somewhat busy weekend which left me needing to recharge the batteries LOL. Thank you all for your patience. xx

"Here you go Captain, I'm not quite sure what use it's going to be, but this is the lightbulb Ms Noble was holding when she came aboard," Geordi La Forge said walking onto the bridge of the _Enterprise_ with a clear plastic case in one hand. The case contained the Tardis' warning light which was still glowing a bright vibrant red. "We've run most of the tests we've been able to think of so far, but we've struck out. There is no independent power source within the bulb itself that we've been able to detect."

Captain Picard stared at the lightbulb in fascination once more. "None whatsoever?"

"No, sir."

"And it's not changed at all?"

"Well, if anything, it's grown a little brighter – increasing from 1,600 lumens to nearly 2,000."

"Do you have any idea why?" Picard asked intrigued.

Geordie shook his head. "No, none whatsoever," he said regretfully. "I'm afraid we've failed completely in that department.

Data looked at the lightbulb with fresh interest. "Ms Noble, would you care to comment?" he asked carefully. "Has anything happened to you recently, since you came aboard this vessel?"

Donna gave Data an incredulous look. "Since I've come aboard?" she repeated.

"Yes, that is correct."

"Well let me see now, I've been examined, held against my will, been accused of being a spy, disbelieved at every turn, and held against my will. Which would you like to pick?"

Data frowned, blinking as he thought rapidly, and tried again. "Yes, it is unfortunate that your unexpected appearance on the E_nterprise_ came about in such an unforeseen manner. You must, of course, realise that having arrived without warning, in such a dramatic fashion that there would be questions that needed to be asked?"

"Questions, yes, but not the third degree I've been put through," Donna argued back.

Picard held up his hands placatingly. "I do not doubt that you have been through a traumatic time, and under some not inconsiderable stress. We are sorry for anything we have put you through," he said calmly. "However I believe that what Mr Data is attempting to ask you, is that stress aside, have you had anything else happen to you? Have you been hurt or injured in some way?"

"No, I don't think so, but why?"

"We're trying to work out if there is any correlation between you and the lightbulb. It came from your universe we know, but are you also able to affect it, or even can it affect you?" La Forge added.

"You're having me on, aren't you? How can I have any effect on the light bulb? It's a lightbulb for goodness sake. All I did, was chase after it when it started to roll when the Tardis hit a pocket of turbulence. One moment I was with the Doctor, and the next minute I was here, holding it. I don't know why it was glowing in the first place, let alone why it's continuing to glow now. All I know is it's a part of the Doctors ship. And all he said was that the red light and the sounding of the cloister bell indicated grave danger."

Picard drew a breath and crossed his arms, now they were getting somewhere. "Now that is interesting, and something I don't believe we knew before. "Grave danger you say? To what or whom?" Picard asked.

Donna shrugged. "I dunno, that's all I heard before I tried to catch the stupid thing and ended up here."

"So having discovered precisely nothing new with your little tete a tete, whilst we're standing around offering theories, why do you not see if Orac may be of any use? Since we are also from a different Universe, perhaps Orac has a different way of looking at things." Avon suggested dryly. The truth of the matter was that, while what he said was true, he was also was itching to get his hands on the light bulb. It was an intriguing puzzle and one which he'd dearly love to solve. Casually he held out his hand for the box.

With a nod from Picard, Geordi handed the box over.

Taking the plastic container from Geordi, Avon carefully and delicately opened the lid and drew out the lightbulb. Despite the brilliant red light emitting from the bulb, it felt completely cool to the touch. It's clear surface smooth and glasslike. Turning it over, the bottom looked like a standard silver soldered contact, atop a screw fitted cap. By squinting against the light Avon could make out the filaments, supports, fuse sleeves, glass pitch and exhaust. In every way, the bulb looked like a 'normal' old fashioned light bulb. "Remarkable," he breathed softly to himself, before putting the bulb back in the case Geordi had kept it in, and placing it on the top of Orac. "Orac. Kindly scan the object in the box on top of you and identify its power source."

The lights inside Orac's own clear casing, pulsed brightly as Orac acceded to Avon's request, devoting a considerable percentage of his attention to the light bulb for a few moments. "The object in the box is composed of polysynthetic glass," it pronounced after a beat. "This is caused by a process of twinning heat initiated silicate crystals during controlled precipitation of the said crystal which gives the resultant glass-ceramic material a far greater tensile strength and durability than would usually be found in a product of this type.

"Inside the structure, the wolfram filament has also been subjected to the same type of composite laying technique as the outer casing and is of a superior grade of heavy metal, however, the rest of the interior is the usual composition of lead wire, molybdenum filament supports, glass pitch. The dumet wire coated with some substance I can't yet identify, and there is an unknown fuse material present. The addition of the standard pitch and exhaust is as you would have seen for yourself." Orac finished primly.

"Thank you, Orac. Can you identify its power source?" Avon asked, repeating his earlier question.

"I do not believe there is power source attached to the object per se," Orac said after a beat. "I can find no evidence of any motorised, mechanical or chemical parts that would provide an energy source."

"There is no source of power within the device itself?"

"That is what I have just said. I am not in the habit of repeating myself."

Raising an eyebrow, Avon looked at Picard. There were few things in the universe that Orac couldn't either gain access to or decipher, Orac admitting he couldn't decode something was most unusual. "Do you need more time to examine the lightbulb?" the computer tec enquired.

"Long or short, my answer would remain the same. I am unable to ascertain the mechanism by which the lightbulb is illuminated."

"Hmm, it is indeed a puzzle. Perhaps the bulb needs to enact with Ms Noble to give us a clearer insight into its properties?" Data suggested.

"Yes, that's an excellent idea. Ms Noble if you'd be so good," Picard offered, indicating that Donna should pick up the lightbulb.

With a glance around at the anxious faces around her, Donna swallowed. "Really?"

"If you would be so good," Picard encouraged, while La Forge offered Donna a smile.

"Oh well then, nothing ventured, nothing gained is what I always say. Just don't blame me if something goes wrong," Donna said, moving forward to open the case and gingerly touch, before opening it and taking hold of the light bulb.

It did indeed appear to be noticeably brighter, if only by a little bit.

Both Data and Geordi seemed to magic tricorders from thin air. Data taking out the short-range probe attached to his instrument and drawing closer.

"What about now Orac?" Avon asked. 

"There is no change in the object."

"That is not entirely correct," Data interjected. "My tricorder has detected a 0.00475 increase in its ohm resistance."

"Well, of course, I detected that, but the difference is so slight, it could easily be explained by background radiation or the movement of the bulb when it was handled." Orac snapped.

"Well there's an easy way to test that theory at least, Miss Noble if you could put the bulb down again," Geordi said simply.

Moving carefully Donna put the bulb back in the box. The slight variation in the lightbulbs mean reading changed again.

"If you could pick it up again?" Picard suggested.

Donna did so.

"The same reading," Data confirmed.

Surprising everyone Avon reached out and took the bulb out of Donna's hands. "What?" he asked. "It was getting quite tedious watching you. Orac is the …"

"Yes, yes, the reading has changed again," Orac interrupted. "Though by chance we are only talking an infinitesimal amount, which barely registers."

"Greater or lesser?" Picard asked, as caught up in their mini mystery as anyone else.

"To a greater extent than not being touched, but by a lesser than when being held by Ms Noble," Data supplied.

"Which proves one thing. Donna obviously has an effect on the bulb." La Forge said excitedly.

"But what does that mean?" Donna asked.

"I haven't a clue as yet," Avon admitted, carefully turning the light bulb over several times as if the answer would suddenly materialise.

"If I may?" Picard said holding out his hands.

With a nod in Donna's direction, Picard gently took the lightbulb from Avon; holding it carefully as if it were one of the ancient artefacts he studied as a hobby. Data and Geordi trained their tricorders on the Captain. "What are the readings like now?" he queried.

"As expected, there is less luminosity once Ms Noble is no longer in contact with the device, but fractionally less than when Mr Avon was holding it." Data said analysing his readings.

"Try holding it as well Data. Your very nature might make a difference." La Forge suggested.

"It is highly unlikely since my internal power source is self-generated," Data replied.

"But still Mr Data," Picard said handing the lightbulb over.

Data held the lightbulb curiously. "I can detect no physical changes to its composition or output."

"Yet there was a zero point 000277° jump," Geordi said sounding excited. "I believe we're onto something."

"I can only hope it isn't your intention to test everyone on this ship of yours, or we could be in for a long night," Avon said dryly.

"Quite." Picard agreed thoughtfully.

"Captain Picard, sir, we are being hailed by the Dalek ship," Lt Yuen said from the tactical station behind Picard.

"Ah yes, our new friends. I thought they were running a little late," Picard sighed. "Very well Lieutenant put them on screen. "

Donna was still holding the lightbulb in fact when the _Enterprise_'s viewscreen flickered to life.

"You will prepare to be…" the Dalek on the screen started to say but got no further. It stopped talking as red lights started to flash on the saucers bridge and an overbearing claxon blared throughout the Dalek ship. If any expression could be conveyed by the stark metal casing of the Dalek, the emotion would have been one of 'horror', the Dalek visibly backing away from its screen.

"Eh? What is going on?" Picard asked out of the side of his mouth to Data, who had remained standing beside him still holding the lightbulb.

Data's eyes narrowed as he looked at the viewscreen. "I am uncertain sir, but I think the Dalek is definitely agitated or perhaps nervous or disturbed would be a better term."

"By what?" Picard wondered out loud.

"Alert, alert, alert. You are an enemy of the Dal…eks, you will be exterminated." Dalek Sec screeched loudly.

Picard held up his hands, in a non-threatening manner. "I can assure you we are here on a peaceful mission as I have explained before," he tried.

"Time Lord technology has been detected," a red Dalek next to Sec cried out.

"Where is the Doctor?" Sec demanded.

"Alert, alert, Alert…." Another Dalek offered, ignoring Picard completely.

"Time Lord technology had been detected," the red Dalek repeated, swivelling it's upper body round completely. "Prepare all energy weapons…"

"Are you in need of a physician?" Picard queried still at a loss to explain the creatures strange behaviour. "We do have several… energy weapons? Mr Data?"

Donna Nobel understood the Dalek perfectly. "The Doctor? Where?" she repeated excitedly, looking around for the Time Lord in relief. She didn't usually mind adventures, but this one was a bit too adventurous for her liking at the moment.

"Captain, we are being scanned" Lt Marksham announced from ops.

"Shields up, go to red alert…"

"Our shields are already up," Marksham offered as the deck of the _Enterprise_ turned blood red as the alarm sounded.

"Our shields were already up?" Picard asked turning round to face his officer in surprise. "Someone turn that infernal racket off."

"Yes sir, I hadn't," Marksham started loudly, then tried again when the alarm abruptly cut off. "I had not lowered them since that ship first contacted us."

"Very good Lieutenant. Mr La Forge, I want to find out how they are able to get past our shielding."

"Yes sir, I'll get onto it right away," Geordi said though he didn't move, fascinated as he was by the sight of the oversized pepper pots

"Regardless of the state of your shields. The Daleks as they call themselves, are still scanning the light bulb," Orac said loudly.

Worried for the safety of the small part of the Tardis Donna took it back from Data, only to have it plucked nimbly from her fingers by Avon who looked at it critically once more. "This thing, why? Aside from the fact that it appears to have no discernible power source of course."

"You will be exterminated," Dalek Sec screeched.

"Thank you, I'll have that back," Donna said retrieving her lightbulb once ore.

Avon scowled at her.

Geordi, who still had his tricorder in his hands, frowned slightly. Pointing the enhancer at the lightbulb and punching a few more commands into the small device. "You know, Orac is quite right Captain, the Daleks seem awfully interested in the light bulb. They are scanning it with something like an optical decoder."

"For what reason?"

"To be honest, I'm not absolutely certain."

"The reason is perfectly obvious," Orac contradicted. "The energy which…"

"No, it's not because of its energy, it's because it's part of the Tardis," Donna interrupted excitedly. "The Doctor is a Time Lord right, and this is part of his ship, so that must make it Time Lord technology. Yes?" she questioned at the end, the lightbulb glowing even brighter in her hands. "It's this they're scared of."

"They're scared of a lightbulb?" Picard said sounding completely baffled.

Data was also scanning the lightbulb and the surrounding area with his own slightly more sophisticated tricorder. "I believe it is what it represents," he suggested.

"You are an enemy of the Dal…eks," Dalek Sec continued to repeat.

Feeling emboldened Donna grinned at the viewscreen. "You betcha sunshine," she told Sec, drawing herself up to her full height. "I'm the Doctor and I'm telling you to leave this place right now, and never return, go on, vamoose!"

"The Doctor has been identified." Dalek Sec said seemingly both awestruck and panic-stricken in an equal manner.

"Yes, that's right. Didn't you hear me the first time? I said you need to leave this place, immediately, if not sooner." Donna continued, still channelling the Doctor, trying to extrude the confidence she'd witnessed in his dealing with unruly aliens.

"Confirmation of the location of the Doctor. We have co-ordinates. Prepare to exterminate… charge energy weapons…"

Picard made a slashing motion across the bottom of his throat to kill the sound on the viewscreen.

Marksham complied quickly.

"Yes, well. I don't believe that went exactly as planned," he said mildly, looking at Donna. "Ms Noble whilst I do not doubt that you thought you were helping, what exactly are you trying to achieve?

"I'm sorry, I thought it would help," Donna said sounding contrite, all her earlier bluster having vanished in an instant.

"It was a good plan," Geordi offered. "And as a bluff, it might still work. The lightbulb does react to you, after all."

"Threatening an enemy with superior firepower which we don't currently possess is never a good idea," Orac countered.

"Oh, I don't know, it's helped us out in the past, once or twice," Avon contradicted.

"And in each instance, I was able to accurately compute the variables of any given action, so we were never in any real danger." Orac snapped.

"Don't mention that to Vila, or Blake for that matter," Avon suggested his eyes narrowing in thought.

"All right everyone, enough of this, it's getting us nowhere," Picard interrupted firmly. "Recommendations."

"I believe our only course of action is to surrender, at this moment in time." Data said quietly. "As they have aptly demonstrated they can easily penetrate our shielding, we have no reason to believe that their weapons would lack the capacity to do so also."

"No, I can not accept that." Picard huffed folding his arms and then unfolding them. "Mr La Forge, do you have any determination yet over whether we can match their firepower, even without our shields?"

"No, I'm afraid not Captain. The system-wide glitches and power outages have kept the whole of engineering pretty much working flat out. And though they've now stopped, they did cause small yet when taken together considerable disruptions, there has not been time for much else.

"Most of the Dalek's technologies and materials from what we have seen so far are unknown to us It's not something I'd want to bet my life on, that's for certain," Geordi said apologetically.

"Hmmm yes, which is precisely what we would be doing." Picard sad drawing a breath. "It's not something I'm prepared to risk at this moment in time, and certainly not with Will… Commander Riker, Counsellor Troi, Lt Commander Wolf and a whole security detail missing. Agreed?"

Whilst it wasn't unusual for Picard to ask for input or further information during a crisis or before committing to a plan of action, it was unusual for him to do so whilst making a command decision.

Data looked at the Captain and then the people assembled around them. They were quite a mixture of universes and differing times. "Yes sir," he agreed, therefore. "A prudent course of action if I may say so."

"What? Wait a minute, I don't agree! This is madness." Avon said firmly. "You can not turn us over to them. They have repeatedly said they intend to exterminate us and that is not something I can live with, no pun intended. Your lives may not mean much to you, but mine does to me. We should stand our ground and fight."

"Our guest may have a point Captain," Geordi agreed.

"I think you'll find I usually do!"

"The Daleks may have threatened to kill us, but they have not done so, despite their repeated assertions." Data added.

"Yes, a good point. I wonder what they are waiting for?" Picard asked.

"An engraved invitation perhaps?" Avon suggested sarcastically.

"Perhaps," Donna ventured. "Perhaps if the Daleks can pick up on a bit of the Tardis, then the Doctor will be able to as well and come and rescue us?"

Data opened his mouth to contradict Donna but then thought better of it, realising it served no purpose, so shut it again. "Perhaps," he agreed instead. "In some situations, anything is possible."

"Pah," Avon snorted in disgust. "Sentimental nonsense. Orac, can you return their scan and see if you can pinpoint any area of weakness?"

"I am already attempting to do so." Orac snapped. "Why do you think I've been silent this last couple of minutes?"

"And have you had any luck?" Picard asked.

Avon shot Picard a look; the Captain raising an eyebrow in response before he turned to include both La Forge and Data in his gaze. "Gentlemen, it's agreed for now, that Mr Orac will continue to probe for any weak spots within the Dalek ship, or the Daleks themselves, that we can exploit and use to free ourselves. 

"Data you and La Forge assist where you can. Look for any potential areas we can exploit. I don't know, carrier waves, limitation in their technologies, areas of damage to their ship. We have telemetry readings from the ships which attempted to venture into the anomaly, see if they can throw any light on the proceedings.

"And in the meantime, Mr Avon, Ms Noble and I will try to distract them, either by offering to surrender or placating them in some other way or fashion….

"Perhaps your friend the Doctor may even be able to find us and render some assistance, as you suggested, in order to prevent us from falling on our swards. " Avon drawled.

Picard ignored him. "Lt Marksham, please open hail…."

Whatever Picard was about to say however was lost as he, Avon, Donna, Geordi and Data vanished from the bridge of the _Enterprise_ in a shower of coloured energy.

They materialised in a large featureless space, devoid of anything except an inky blackness all around them, and a smooth black floor. There was a light source directly above them, but the ceiling and any walls were not visible. The energy beam which had transported the small group released them just a fraction off from the floor, so no one could retain their footing, resulting in them ending up in a somewhat tangled heap.

Data had fared the best, however, and only ended up down on one knee, while Avon, devoid of his antigrav chair ended up almost flat on his back. Rising to his feet quickly, Picard tugged on the hem of his tunic and looked around, taking stock of their situation.

"Is everyone ok?" he asked, giving Geordi a hand up, then dusting himself down.

"Define your definition of ok?" Avon demanded, pushing himself up to a sited position using his elbows and looking up at the Captain.

"Does anything appear to be broken?"

"That wasn't already?" Avon required with a raised eyebrow.

Picard looked at the computer tech in concern. "Yes about that," he said lowering his voice. "Do you think you can stand?"

Avon understood the implication immediately. "I can not imagine our hosts will look favourably on those who are less than fit or able," he replied cautiously.

"Just so," Picard agreed.

"I can stand, though I might need some assistance," Avon said with some reluctance.

"Mr Data."

"Let me give you a hand sir," Data offered, holding out one hand and providing the motive strength to help Avon to his feet with apparent ease. "You may lean on me should you feel the need."

Avon made a show of pushing away immediately and wobbled in reaction. "It's just a touch of dizziness," he admitted unwillingly, as Data put his arm around him again.

"Undoubtedly," Picard agreed a little louder than necessary, giving his arm to Donna, helping her to her feet as well. "Adjusting to sensory deprivation is not easy, which is what I think is meant by this interesting lack of light show. Let me give you a hand as well Ms Nobel."

"Thank you," Donna agreed with a smile, rising to her feet and brushing down her borrowed blue scrubs, not realising until then that her lightbulb was still in her hands. Sheepishly she offered it to Picard while she fussily straightened her clothes. "What do they want with us?" she asked.

"I would have thought that perfectly obvious," Avon said dryly.

"I think it has something to do with this lightbulb of yours. Really it's quite remarkable." Picard said a little more kindly.

La Forge had moved a little way away from the group which everyone had been talking, scanning the area they found themselves in with his visor, adjusting the settings several times to see if he could pick up any clues to their surroundings. "I think we're being held behind a forcefield," he offered walking back to the others. "I'm picking up a faintly oscillating em bandwidth, which I don't quite recognise, but which I feel should be familiar," he said reaching out a hand as if to touch it.

"Careful Geordi," Data said, steadying Avon who had once more tried to stand unassisted. "You don't know the strength of the field. It could prove fatal to the touch."

"Yes, Data is right," Picard added handing Donna the lightbulb back.

Once in Donna's hands, the light bulb appeared to glow brighter than ever. "If I didn't know better, I would say it's a bit more glowy than before," she suggested.

"You are not incorrect." Geordi agreed. "There has been a 15% increase in its luminosity. Its electrostatic energy is off the scale, just look at what it's doing to your hair?"

"What? What is it doing? Oh my….." Donna said quickly handing the bulb to Geordi as her ginger hair started to stand out in all directions from her head. "Why's it doing that… it's not right…"

Released by Donna, the bulb returned to its previous shade of red and brightness. Geordi couldn't help chuckling, as Donna tried to brush her hair back down, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Do you think the object is what the Dalek's are after?" Picard asked looking serious.

"If that were the case, then it must have some intrinsic value to them. I suggest we find out what that is so we can use it as a bargaining chip." Avon suggested.

"Oi! We are not giving it away sunshine. That bulb belongs to the Doctor and is part of the Tardis," Donna said immediately.

"If it's the only way. You might not have a say in the matter," Avon responded.

"Now just you listen here…"

Picard stepped between Donna and Avon. "Now, just wait a minute. There has to be a rational explanation for all of this. Some reason why we've also been bought here too. These Daleks, clearly have the technology to transport matter, so if it were just the bulb they were after, they could just as easily have transported it across without us…"

"About that Captain. It shouldn't have been possible for them to transport anything at all. We had our shields up at full strength at red alert remember?" La Forge said with a frown.

Data looked at his best friend. "Ah, I have been wondering about the unusual oscillating pattern you detected earlier. It may be possible that the transporter device also contained the same structure and configuration. If that were the case, and it was out of phase even by 0.72 of a micron, that might have allowed them to penetrate our shields."

"There's no might about it. We're here, therefore it did happen," Avon said firmly.

"So, they must want not only the lightbulb but something from us too," Picard said thoughtfully. "I wonder what that can be?"

"Donna and I are from different universes, we have nothing in common with you," Avon said firmly.

"That is true," La Forge agreed. "And the three of us are from a third universe too."

"No, it has to be something other than that," Picard said frowning. "It can't be that simple."

"Nor so random," La Forge continued. "Both you and Ms Nobel are the sole representatives of their universes aboard the _Enterprise_, so there could only be one of you."

"Orac is from my universe," Avon pointed out.

"Yes, but he is not a carbon-based life form as such…" La Forge argued.

"May I point out that I'm not a carbon-based life form either," Data interrupted.

Geordi sighed. "Yes right," he agreed.

"So there was an opportunity to bring Orac along, yet they didn't, but they did bring Data." Picard mused. "Why?"

"So what do we all have in common?" Avon asked.

"Four humans, albeit from three different universes and an artificial lifeform," Donna said with a sigh, switching the light bulb from one hand to another. "Ow, this is really getting hot you know," she complained.

"Hot?" Picard queried immediately reaching out to touch it. He pulled his fingers away immediately. "You're right."

"Hello, that's new," La Forge said with fresh interest.

"Curious," added Data.

"I believe I have it," Avon interjected.

"Yes?" four different voices and faces looked at him expectantly.

"It's very simple when you think about it."

"And?" Picard asked.

"We have all handed that damn thing," Avon said pointing towards the bulb.

Donna moved to quickly put it down on the floor, where it's brightness faded immediately, but not back to the level it was before. It's red glow remained apparent, casting crimson shadows across the floor.

Avon smiled humorlessly. "Too late for that I believe," he said gesturing all around them. "I don't think we can get rid of it that easily."

"No, but wait. Didn't we put the lightbulb down on Orac so he could analyse it?" Picard asked.

"Yes we did," La Forge confirmed. "So why didn't they bring him too…?"

"Wrong again," Avon smiled. "We put the lightbulb in a case and put the case on top of Orac, as we would put the case down on any other surface to be scanned. Orac is a box, it doesn't have any appendages with which to 'hold' anything. We have all held the bulb independently… otherwise, why is the display case not been transported too? Or the trolley it was sitting on before that…"

"Yes, you're right. I believe you've got something there." Picard agreed.

"Yes, but how exactly does that help us?"

"Perhaps, they know the reason the light bulb is glowing, and have found a way to trace its energy source?"

"So why have they brought us here too? That's the part that doesn't make any sense, to me. Them wanting a piece of the Tardis is scary but kinda understandable, but..." Donna said looking around her once more. "...where are we?"

Picard flexed his knees slightly as if preparing to jump, bouncing on the spot several times. "I think it is perfectly obvious where we are," he said quietly, as he straightened, having tested the gravity.

"Yes," Data and Geordi agreed immediately.

"You don't travel much do you?" Avon added.

Donna continued to look puzzled. "I don't understand," she admitted.

Data chose to enlighten her. "I believe we are aboard the Dalek spaceship. The small yet discernable vibrations permeating up through the floor on which we are standing is indicative of the fact that we are still in space. The vibrations caused by saucers engines."


	18. Chapter 18

“Blimey, that was close!” the Doctor said quickly moving his feet backwards out of the way of the Borg’s laser beam as it missed its intended target, the Time Lord, and instead sliced through a chunk of the debris which had been pinning Moss to the ground. 

Coughing at the fresh dust in the air, the Doctor carefully inched the injured man back from the edge of the rubble pile. Now he was free of the plaster slabs which had been covering his lower legs, it would a fairly straight forward process to get him through the hole in the wall and then to the safety of the Tardis.

“Are you ok in there Doctor?” Blake asked in a harsh whisper, his head poking through the hole in the wall. “I thought we were going to lose you both, the wall was shaking that much I can’t understand why it hasn’t collapsed already.”

“Shushhhh! Don’t say that! You might give it the idea.” The Doctor deadpanned back.

Roj Blake laughed. “I think It’s too late for that already. Just hurry up before they decide to take another potshot at you.”

The rebel and the Time Lord found that they worked well together and had managed to rescue Docholli, in no short order. The surgeon was now sitting off to one side under the watchful eye of Jenna who had used a role of bandage to make a makeshift sling and tie Docholli’s his arm tight to his body after his dislocated shoulder had been put back in place. Despite this Docholli didn’t look too good, his skin was grey with shock and dust, but his breathing had picked up a bit now he was free from the close confinement of the debris that had held him trapped against the brick wall.

The unmistakable sound of a Borg laser beam sliced through the air, causing more dust and debris to fly around. Blake pulled back for a few moments.

The Doctor coughed, thankfully that beam had been way off the mark, he hadn't been hit, and Moss was still free. The Doctor continued trying to manoeuvre him towards the gap in the wall. “This things never give up do they?”

“They don’t seem too." Blake agreed, putting his head back through the hole in the wall so he could converse with the Doctor more easily and watch as he struggled to get Moss closer so Blake could lean down and help. "Avalon has vanished after another one, still no sight of Deva and that kid.”

“Indigo.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The kid's name is Indigo… that’s I think Moss is close enough to the hold now, can you reach through and grab him.” The Doctor asked.

“Yes, of course…”

Moss was unconscious and therefore a dead weight, and difficult to move in any direction. Blake and Docholli had both been awake and conscious to some degree, both able to cooperate to a greater or lesser extent. Moss was completely out of things, and therefore made helping him through the entrance the Doctor had made in the wall to originally rescue Blake that much harder. Another hiss and shower of rubble, lead the Time Lord to crouch over Moss protectively, before moving them both quickly to one side as he saw the red laser range finding beam play over the back of the wall just over their heads.

“Still here, but we’ve got to move quickly now…” the Doctor urged.

Blake grunted, trying to get his arms under Moss’ so he could pull him clear. 

“Someone needs to go on a diet…” he groaned, “Ouch… that’s torn it…”

“What?”

“My coat snagged it on something. That’s it, he’s free. Yes, take him, Jenna… Come on Doctor, now you…”

The Doctor reached for the hole in the wall, when a hiss of Borg laser caused him to through himself sideways once more, putting his hands over his head to protect himself. “Blimey, that was too close,” he muttered to himself, trying to straighten up and reach for the hole. It was then that he realised it had gone dark.

More rubble showered down around him in fine pebbles, like sand running through a timer as he reached for his sonic and switched it on. Under its blue light, the Doctor could see that the pockets of space left behind by the three men he’d helped to rescue had almost been filled in. There was a faint light above him, where the hole should have been, but it was not big enough for him to climb through.

“Doctor? Doctor are you in there?” Blake’s voice reached the Doctor with reassuring clarity.

“Yes. There’s been a bit of a cave-in.”

“The top part of the wall has collapsed. Can you get out…?”

“Can you widen the hole a bit?”

“Hang on…”

There was the sound of scrambling and grinding as Blake tried to lift some of the rubble free.

More debris rained around the Doctor, the air thick with plaster, brick and ventilation dust.

More grating sounds, as Blake continued to strong-arm the rubble.

Another shower of debris, twinned by another blast from a Borg laser.

A crack and larger pieces of the wall fell across the spot where the Doctor lay trapped underneath. A beam landing across the top of his ankle. He bellowed out in surprise and pain.

“Doctor… are you still…”

“I’m ok.” The Doctor replied coughing. “Something landed on my leg, it’s sore, but I don’t think it’s broken.

“Hang on, I’m coming,” Blake suggested immediately, attempting to move the rubble quicker than ever on his side of the wall.

Another creak and the Doctor felt something press into his side, as the wall started to settle again.

“No, no… don’t! Stop. Look, Blake, you need to get to the safety of the Tardis,” the Doctor tried, testing his leg, to make sure it wasn’t badly injured. “Get everyone on board safely, knock twice, Vila and Deanna will let you in. The Tardis won’t take off without me, at least I don’t think she will under usual circumstances, but she has shields that should keep you all safe. 

“I’m going to need to blast my way out of here. If we try to all leave together we’ll slow each other down. With you carrying Moss and Jenna helping your other friend you’ll get their much quicker. 

I’ll be along in a few minutes as soon as I’ve freed myself,” the Doctor whispered quickly, using his sonic on the beam across his leg as he talked to cut through it. 

“I’ll come back for you.”

“No. Just wait. 

If anything happens to me the Tardis will take you to the next safest place.”

“How will we know that?”

“She’ll know, we’re sort of linked to our ship, it’ll take too long to explain. Go… I can see more laser beams through the rubble…”

“If you’re sure…”

“I thought you said you knew how to fly this thing?” Dayna said as the saucer they had stolen from the Daleks, wobbled for the umpteenth time, causing her to grab at the railings once more. They had been flying for some minutes now, and while it couldn’t be said that they were getting used to the controls, they were still airborne, as the saucer was nudged ever higher in order to break free of the planet’s gravity.

“No, I said they don’t exactly teach you how to fly a Dalek ship at the academy.” Riker corrected. “I can just see it now. ‘How to fly an enemy saucer 101’. Ha! Until a couple of days ago we’d never even heard of these blessed things, and the more I do see, the less I like. But I don’t think we’re doing too badly, all things considered, do you?”

Dayna opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind as she made another grab for the railings behind her.

“Sorry. Still getting used to the controls, although I think the gyroscope needs some work doing to it, and whatever we’re using for fuel could do with a different mix ratio too, I might be wrong but we’re running a little lean, which is why some of our motions are spasmodic.”

“Really, I thought that was you - you couldn’t drive this thing,” Dayna returned a little nervously letting go. “If the fuel is off, that means our thrust will be unstable too. Does that mean we’re likely to crash?”

“Haha, you’re so funny,” Riker replied flashing a smile in Dayna’s direction. 

“Firstly you don’t drive a ship, you fly or pilot it, and secondly, no, I hope not, it just means we need to work a little harder that’s all. Press those two switches down, and turn that nob by 25°…”

“These?”

“Yes, and then that one… when I say, then hold on a bit tighter… if I’m learning to read their instruments even a little, I think that’s the booster switch.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“I guess we’ll find out either way, won’t we?”

“Remind me why this was such a good idea?”

“We need to get help for your father and sister... And to do that, I need to reach my ship.”

“I wonder how they’re getting on?”

“Hopefully better than us. Just be ready to press that switch…”

Will Riker was learning the hard way that the blunt-edged flying saucers of the Dalek’s were not as aerodynamic as they could have been, the leading edges too thick to give any much additional lift to the ship's thrusters. 

They had cleared the troposphere some time ago, after narrowly missing an unexpected group of mountains and had made it through the stratosphere and mesosphere to reach the thermosphere, but now any buoyancy supplied by the oxygen and other gas molecules in the atmosphere had dissipated, leaving the ship feeling heavy and unresponsive.

“How far up do we need to get before we can contact your ship?” Dayna asked, moving the dials and switches as directed.

“Not much further, as long as we can find their communication system. It should be possible for the  _ Enterprise _ to get a lock on our position and beam us directly on board.”

“That’s a relief, I thought we were going to need to dock this thing.”

“No, that was never a possibility, although hanger three would be big enough for us to land in.”

“Your ship is big enough for this ship to fly into it?”

Riker grinned. “Remind me to give you a tour. The  _ Enterprise _ is a big ship. We carry a complement of ten personnel shuttles, ten cargo shuttles, five specialist craft, as well as 12 two-person pods… admittedly none are quite as big as this, but I can assure you we do have the room. Ok, press that switch now…”

The Dalek saucer shuddered, then appeared to jump forward with an acceleration that left Riker clinging to his instrument panel and knocked Dayna off her feet to leave her sliding across the deck until she collided with another control bank.

“Are you all right back there?” Riker asked, too busy to take his eyes from the screen he was looking at.

“Yeah, kinda,” Dayna replied getting to her feet as the saucer levelled off and rubbing bits of her which had collided with the ship, feeling a little dazed she leaned on the panel behind her and heard a click in response, a screen flaring to life next to her. “Oh oh?”

“What do you mean oh, oh?” Riker asked unable to turn around.

“Erm…”

“I’m a little busy right now, so just come out and say it,” Riker suggested.

“You know you mentioned contacting the  _ Enterprise _ ?”

“Yes, what of it?”

“I think we’ve just managed to contact… the wrong ship!”

Servalan was surrounded. Three electric blue lights surrounded by a black socket on a metal stick were pointed directly at her.

“Halt, you are now a prisoner of the Daleks,” The senior Dalek of the trio stated firmly.

“You will stay where you are,” Ordered the second Dalek.

“Do not move.” The third screeched loudly moving forward then back itself as if to emphasise the point.

Ignoring the instructions being yelled at her, Servalan finished climbing up the ladder, took a step to the side and stood brushing herself down, smoothing her dry, but somewhat dirty and water stained dress fastidiously, poise and grace in every line of her body and movement.

“You will stop moving.”

“You are a prisoner of the Daleks.”

“You will obey.”

Having finished with her dress to her satisfaction and after a suitable length of time had elapsed since the last command, the Supreme Commander of the Federation looked up, and got her first proper look at the Daleks. 

Servalan wasn’t a tall woman. Standing a little under 5’ 5” she was used to people being taller than her. It was odd therefore to find the Daleks were just a fraction smaller. They reminded her a little of an upturned shuttlecock- a game she sometimes indulged in for amusement, especially with the odd psychostrategist or two. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, it was almost impossible for Servalan to take the Daleks seriously at that moment in time, therefore. The sun glinted off the outside edges of the gold dalekanium casings of the trio, causing them to glitter and sparkle as they moved. The chrome power rods of the Dalek’s weapons and eyestalks, shone brilliant white, leaving a bright after image behind on her vision. “My, but aren’t you rather gorgeous!” she told them airily. “Just look how you shine in the sunlight.”

The first two Dalek’s eye-stalks swivelled around so they were facing each other as if conversing. “You will obey the Daleks,” the Leader repeated after a pause, echoing the thirds original command.

Servalan trilled softly and wiped an imaginary speck of dirt from one of her sleeves. She’d seen just how deadly the Daleks could be, so knew if she showed any kind of weakness or hesitation in front of them, that they’d likely kill her on the spot. 

The only way for her to survive was to act as if she were already in charge. “Why of course I will obey,” she agreed mildly, therefore. “After all you have just rescued me from that ghastly hole in the ground, how can I ever thank you?”

“You are a prisoner of the Daleks.” The second Dalek announced again.

“You will be taken for questioning.” The leader said quickly.

Unnoticed, Servalan relaxed infinitesimally. If they wanted to interrogate her, that meant that planned to keep her alive, at least for now. She could work with that. “Questioning? 

Really? That sounds so dreadfully dull. I’m quite happy to tell you everything I know. Let me see now, my ship crashed on this planet a couple of days ago, as a result of that ghastly set to with the Andromedans. The rest of my crew is dead of course, and I barely escaped with my life. The natives of this planet have tried to kill me, and then you arrived. That’s all there is to it.” she offered trying to sound cooperative, and naive at the same time, a ploy that had stood her in good stead at varying times.

“You will be taken for processing then put to work with the rest of the prisoners.” The lead Dalek pronounced.

“Really, what kind of work? I’m much better behind a desk than anything manual I have to warn you. I mean, look at the way I’m dressed. Perhaps I could assist you as some kind of overseer?” Servalan agreed. Her main goal, apart from keeping herself alive, was to reach a working subspace radio and call for help.

Ignoring Servalan’s words, the first Dalek spoke to the third. “You will take the prisoner for questioning,” it instructed it’s brethren.

“I obey,” the second Dalek agreed and prodded Servalan with its sucker arm. “You will walk this way.”

Servalan turned round to glare at the Dalek. “Really there is no need to be so rough. As I keep telling you, you rescued me, I am more than happy to go with you. I may, however, have some interesting information if you take me to whoever is in charge?”

Worf felt a growling in the pit of his stomach and decided it was high time he had some proper nourishment. Much to his disgust, he had found that the  _ Liberator _ had neither replicators nor sonic showers. If he wished to have clean clothes, he would need to change out of his uniform into one of the least implausible ‘costumes’ in the extensively stocked and outlandish wardrobe room. However, after spending the past couple of days in the same set of clothes he’d finally relented and chosen a pair of black trousers, and a black sweater with a high neck. It was the closest to suitable clothing he’d found – closely resembling the black ops clothing he wore when on secret missions.

The lack of suitable clothing, however, was almost nothing when it compared to the lack of a sonic shower. To clean oneself on the  _ Liberator _ , one had to apparently bathe or shower in real water. Just like a cat, Worf hated to get physically wet; however while he didn’t mind the natural odours of his species, he was aware that Humans felt rather differently about the matter. So he’d had to bathe too.

And now he was hungry. The lack of replicators and sonic shows lead him to believe that there might actually be real food aboard the ship. Whether that would cater to Klingon tastes, he very much doubted he’d find anything close to approaching a Rokeg blood pie, he was more hopeful that they might have some kind of shellfish, and at least some mild alcohol which would pass as a beverage of sorts.

Walking expectantly into the ship's dining room, Wolf was surprised to find it apparently deserted, though he could smell that food had been started to be cooked or prepared.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” he called out cautiously, while he reached for his phaser with his other arm. Cally and Alex had been the ones who had decided to go off and prepare the meal, but what if something had happened to them. Had Klegg or any of his men escaped?

Moving silently between the few chairs and tables Worf started to case the room.

“We’re in the galley,” Cally’s voice came in response. “Come back if you like.”

Drawing a breath, Worf stood down from his mental red alert. There had been no sign of stress in Cally’s voice. 

He holstered his phaser but kept his hand near the weapon nonetheless, as he carefully walked forward. More smells of food and cooking reached his nostrils, causing him to relax some more. Nodding to himself, pleased at the thought of being able to eat something finally, Worf pushed open the door to the galley, feeling his stomach rumble. 

Yes, it was indeed time for food.

The galley was a long and wide, with various workstations dotted around the walls, and two sizable islands in the middle containing cooking rings and a sink. There were also various pots and pans, of varying designs and some undefinable usage, as well as several clear cube-like containers.

Worf didn’t pay much attention to them at first, instead, he made his way over to Cally, stopping several feet away when he heard the soft trilling of the grey spotted bundle she was holding in her arms. The noise was unmistakable. Worf told himself to remain calm, but he could already feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising on their own, his hand itched to be able to reach for his phaser. “What is  _ that thing _ doing on this ship?” he grumbled loudly all thoughts of food vanishing immediately at the sight of the Tribble. “It was not here when we conducted a thorough search of the ship earlier.”

“Don’t you like her, I think she’s lovely, and she’s singing too,” Cally said happily, smiling, not immediately noticing Worf’s discomfort and instant dislike. “I’m trying to think of a name for her, any ideas?”

“No. I also don’t care if  _ it _ was singing  _ Aktuh and Maylota _ in the 51st parable, which it was most assuredly not doing. 

It is a vile vermin. That thing has no business being aboard this ship, and come to think of it, what is it even doing in this galaxy? Tarrant did not mention them.”

Cally looked at Worf wide-eyed. His disquiet was now quite obvious, not only in his words but in the emotions she was able to sense all too easily; leaving Cally to understand that Worf was really unnerved by the small trilling Tribble. “Are you sure you’re not overreacting somewhat?” she offered carefully. 

“I can assure you, she’s quite harmless and peaceable, her thoughts are very gentle, I think she might be mildly telepathic. Perhaps if you made an effort to get to know her?”

“I do not want to get to know it. Klingons do not like Tribbles. They are the scourge of the galaxy, and nothing more than an economical menace, a plague to be wiped out and eradicated.” Worf said firmly, scowling fiercely. 

“Now surely that can’t be right.” Cally returned, turning to look at Alex Mudd for some help. Gratefully she caught his eye, and Alex winked back at her. With exaggerated care, he put down container he’d been holding and closed the lid of one of the clear cubes he’d been transporting the Tribbles in. Cally had been more than taken with her charming pet and had given him some grain to feed his cargo since hers had seemed so hungry when she’d offered it some cereal a short while ago. 

“Mr Worf I can assure you they are harmless pets, nothing more. They don’t have claws or bite, they’re not toxic or venomous or poisonous come to think of it. They are just something for discerning ladies and  _ gentlemen _ to coo over and offer titbits to as they please. 

I can give you signed testimony of many happy customers.” Alex said pleasantly looking as perplexed as Cally.

“They were your cargo?” Worf growled alarmed at the thought.

“They were part of it yes. I believe I’ve already thanked this ship and crew for my timely rescue. We would have died without your help.”

“A pity,” Worf grumbled.

“Yes, it would have been.” Alex agreed.

“No, you misunderstand me. A pity you were rescued in that case. Tribbles do nothing except consume food and breed. If you feed them more than the smallest morsel in a few hours you’ll have ten tribbles, then a hundred, then a thousand, they are like… like a swarm of… locusts. They were once considered mortal enemies of the Klingon Empire.”

“Mr Worf!” Cally was outraged.

Alex laughed outright. “These are considered your enemies, and here I was thinking you were a real warrior…”

Worf took a step forward, his face dark with ill humour. He had put up with many things living among Humans, but he would not allow any aspersions against his honour to go unchallenged.

Cally stepped between them, with her new pet in her arms, cooing softly, until it came too close to Worf, and started to screech like a startled cat. Cally took a step back, as did Worf. The Tribble went back to cooing, while Worf’s expression darkened.

Alex laughed. “It seems the feeling is entirely mutual.”

Worf growled.

Cally didn’t need to be the telepath she was to sense his temper was truly rising. Regretfully she handed the Tribble back to Alex. “Perhaps in the interest of peace and cooperation, you should put her back with her family for now. I’ll come and collect her later,” she suggested carefully.

“How many more of those things do you have?”

Alex Mudd smiled. “I don’t believe I shall tell you. I don’t think you’re in charge here, you’re just another guest here like myself.

“That’s enough!” Cally said firmly. “As guests aboard my ship, I expect you to both behave. Mr Worf is a much-valued member of this ships current crew, as are you. Now we both need to get back to our work stations. Alex kindly take your pets back to your ship, they shouldn’t really be in the galley, it’s not very hygienic after all. Worf, since you have showered and changed your clothing, perhaps you can help me finish preparing the food so we might all have something to eat.”

“Very well, just get those things out of here. And keep them somewhere secure.”

“My ship is plenty secure, I can assure you if you were thinking of anything.”

“I do not like what you are insulating. Klingons always behave with dignity.”

Cally stepped between the two men again. “I said enough. Mr Worf, those vegetables need to be peeled then cut up, you can find the knife over there. 

Mr Mudd take your pets back to your ship please.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies I'm a little late today.

“Over here Blake, thank goodness you made it, you can’t believe how relieved I am to see you again, you won’t believe what’s happened,” Vila said as the door to the Tardis opened to admit Blake carrying Moss, as well as Jenna supporting Docholli. “Jenna, thank goodness I did wonder if… you know…”

Jenna nodded briefly. “Yes we know, there’s no need to go on so,” she said tiredly. “Did you get anywhere ready for…”

“Vila, it’s good to see you too,” Blake acknowledged, intentionally cutting across Jenna, seeing Vila’s immediately stricken look and feeling for the smaller man. “We have injured here is there anywhere, anyone able to help?”

“The Doctor isn’t here,” Vila said immediately.

“Yes, we’re aware of that,” Blake agreed. “Who do you think rescued us? Nice fellow, talks a lot though…”

“Yes of course you did. He’s awfully clever Blake, it was him who figured out how to find everyone again…”

“Was it now?”

“Well I helped of course,” Vila said modestly, only to blush slightly as Deanna joined them. “And of course so did she…”

“Hello I’m Deanna, Ships Counsellor,” Troi said lightly, introducing herself to Blake.

“Pleased to meet you. Not a Counsellor of this ship though,” Blake said looking at her, immediately struck by Troi’s attractiveness, while picking up on the slightly out of place air, she had about her.

“Oh, and what makes you say that..?” Troi queried, she could feel Blake’s overwhelming curiosity, relief and self-belief emanating from him in waves, which was most unusual for a human. Troi immediately characterised the emotions and man as charismatic. And smiled. “No,” she agreed. “Not of this ship.”

“She’s another displaced traveller like us Blake, out of time…”

“Not now Vila,” Jenna said pointedly.

“It’s true, you know it is,” Villa responded hotly.

Just then Docholli groaned.

“Vila later, yes. At the moment, these men have to be our priority?” Blake said pleasantly, used to Vila’s fancies, and even more accustomed to ignoring them. He turned back to Deanna and gestured to Moss again. 

“Can you help?” he asked.

“Well, as I said before I’m a counsellor, not a doctor but I do have some rudimentary medical training, and I can show you to the Tardis’ sickbay, so perhaps between us, we can figure something out. What kind of injuries are we looking at?”

“Moss has lost a lot of blood, he was hit by some shrapnel by one of the explosions before the wall fell on us. I’m not sure if he has other injuries too,” Blake said gesturing to the unconscious man he was carrying.

“Docholli has a dislocated collar bone. The Doctor managed to put it back, but he seems to be having some breathing difficulties,” Jenna continued before adding. “Docholli is a surgeon.”

“Then I’m sure we’ll all get along famously,” Troi said firmly, carefully steering the small group around the beds the children had made up for themselves, in several neat and orderly rows. “We have one other patient Payton, who was being looked after by Deva, but I’m sure…”

“How bad is Payton?” Blake interrupted.

“He’s received a laser wound from one of the Borg to his side. Do you know him?” Deanna asked, then smiled at her own stupidity. “Yes of course you do, I imagine you’re all part of the same rebel group Vila’s been telling me about?”

“Not precisely. We’re all part of the same movement, yes, but Vila and Jenna were aboard the  _ Liberator _ with me, Payton, Docholli, Moss and Deva work with Avalon. While my ship was undergoing repairs it was necessary for us to…”

“Yes I know, you had to leave in the life capsules, I believe?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Blake agreed wondering what else Vila had been saying. “I joined up with Docholli first..”

“While I joined Avalon,” Jenna agreed. “I see Vila has been talking too much as usual?”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Deanna said politely. “We’ve both been displaced from our ships, and possibly timelines, we’ve simply been filling in the blanks for each other..”

“Did you say timelines?” Blake frowned. “Don’t say you’ve bought into Vila’s er… let's say, he can sometimes put together some rather exotic fantasies.”

“Hey now that’s not fair,” Vila interjected.

“I can’t speak for anything that may have happened in the past,” Troi said diplomatically, "but in this case, he is perfectly correct. We believe that at least three different universes have at least partially merged as far as we know…”

“No. I’m sorry, that can’t be right, I haven’t noticed anything different.” Blake contradicted.

“I can understand your confusion, but the fact that we’re having this conversation proves my point. In my universe or time, the United Federation of Planets is a force for good in the galaxy. Yet in your timeline or universe, you are fighting against a totalitarian regime known as the Federation. This ship and the Doctor are quite unknown to us – he’s a bona fide time traveller – and from what Vila’s been telling us, he’s unknown to you too. This is the ships sickbay, shall we go in?”

“Actually, have you got somewhere where I can freshen up and get something to eat?” Jenna asked, walking Docholli through the threshold of the door and sitting him down on a bench, before backing out. “I’m afraid I’m no good at this sort of thing…”

“Me too, or should that be neither,” Vila said as well. “I also need to keep an eye on the kids, you know what they can be like.”

“No,” Blake and Jenna said in unison.

“Yes, you go ahead Vila,” Deanna agreed with a smile, laughing privately at the look of horror on Blake's and Jenna's faces. “I’ll help out here.”

There were no tears among the younger children now, nor long faces. 

Deanna and Vila left alone with the teenagers and kids had set about organising things cheerfully and with straightforward practicalities. Without realising just how much the sentient Tardis was coming to their aid, Vila and Deanna had helped their charges to sort out places to sleep around the suddenly much bigger flight deck, setting up the blankets, pillows and quilts and floor mats in neat rows. They had found the bathrooms, there seemed to be several close by, suitable clothing also from a nearby wardrobe room also conveniently close to them and had descended on the kitchen where they had made enough food to feed a small army, which they essentially were. 

Sitting on their made-up beds, eating plates of the nicest food they’d had in ages, the youngsters had watched Deanna and Vila show the new arrivals to another part of the sickbay, Deanna staying with the newcomers while Vila returned just as he’d promised. 

“Where is the Doctor, he hasn’t come back yet.”

“Nor has that other woman, or Indigo, or that other man.”

“Are they all right do you think?

“Should we go and look for them?”

Deva and Indigo had been having quite a time of things since slipping out of the room where the Doctor had been trying to rescue Blake and the rest of Avalon’s people. It hadn’t been difficult to get the Borg to follow Indigo; as the youngster had indeed speculated, they were not so much interested in killing him, as in capturing him. However, it turned out that there were quite a few of the Borg intent on doing so; rather more than either he or Deva had countered on. They didn’t move quickly as the two humans, but were quite relentless as Deva and Indigo led the enemy further and further away from the Doctor and his helpers.

“It’s working kid,” Deva told Indigo with a nod, as they scooted to safety around yet another corner, narrowly escaping a laser beam that would have hit the rebel at head height if he hadn’t moved quickly enough.

“Yeah, seems to be. Where are you thinking of next? The place where the Fed’s kept us is made up of lots of rooms, classrooms, places to eat, exercise, labs you know places where they used to ….” Indigo took a breath as his eyes lost focus.

Deva squeezed him on one shoulder. "You ok?"

Indigo shook himself. This was no time to think of self pity or anything else. They had a job to do, and they needed to get it done. “Yeah, right, so this way,” he suggested, pulling himself together, and ducking back around the corner he waved his arms and danced up and down a bit. “Hey you, over here, this way…”

Obediently the Borg who had been following him turned their heads, then their bodies and started to move in his direction.

Throwing a grin at Deva, Indigo took off at a run, ducking around the next corner out of sight a few seconds later. Inevitably the Borg followed him.

Deva, took aim at the first Borg as it bypassed him and shot a small piece of rock straight at its head. The Borg dropped instantly; even as its two companions turned in Deva’s direction, losing all interest in Indigo.

“Oh, Crap!” Deva swore and took off at a run.

The rebels had learnt the hard way that the Borg adapted to the energy signatures of their weapons quickly, their shield technology blocking all subsequent shots on that frequency after a couple of hits. The weapons the rebels had liberated from the Federation Guards fared no better. But then surprisingly one of Indigo’s suggestions had. 

Not one to make friends easily, and certainly not one to trust people without a damn good reason Deva found himself liking Indigo, almost against his better judgment. When they’d set off to draw the Borg away from the Doctor and his team of rescuers, Indigo had been unarmed, or so Deva had thought. But then Indigo had produced a good old fashioned slingshot, one which had not yet been confiscated. The first time the kid had used it against the Borg had only been to attract their attention away from Deva, whose firearm was now useless. The piece of rubble that Indigo had aimed at the Borg’s head, has sliced through the Borg forcefield as if it wasn’t there. And in fact, it hadn’t been; the inert material not triggering the Borg’s self-defence mechanism.

The small piece of debris, travelling very fast, had caught the Borg on the side of his head with enough force to drop him instantly.

The Borg standing next to the first, had given his compatriot a puzzled glance, but after less than a heartbeat, had continued implacably on with his attempted execution of Deva; right up until the moment that Indigo’s second piece of rubble had found its mark, then he had dropped to.

Indigo and Deva hadn’t looked back; able to eliminate most of the Borg they found at first; though their numbers then seemed to step up a notch, and now it was harder and harder to get the Borg alone or in pairs, they now seemed to travel in small groups of three or four individuals, which were harder to take out, by just the two of them.

Indigo had rounded the far corner and stopped, giving himself barely chance to catch his breath as he loaded a piece of rock in his own slingshot and almost casually reappeared around the edge of the corner, walking towards the Borg. Both had now turned towards Deva and were moving off in pursuit.

Indigo hit the lead Borg, but it wasn’t a clean shot, glancing off the enhanced earpiece it had unfortunately been wearing, though it did catch its attention for a few beats.

Launching himself into a forward role, flinching as the bits of rubble on the ground bit into his bruised body, where he’d already performed the manoeuvre too many times, Indigo fumbled for another piece of rock, knowing he had a couple of seconds to defend himself.

A laser beam dropped the surprised Borg before it could hit Deva; slicing through the top of its head before travelling without pause onto the second Borg who also dropped.

“Thought you looked like you could use a bit of help,” Avalon offered casually, stepping through a doorway opposite. 

“Thanks.”

Deva had stopped running at the sound of the laser shot and came walking back now. “Blake?” he asked immediately.

Avalon shook her head. “Not yet, but we’re getting close. The trouble is, I think they know it and are continuing to converge in the area, we need your help…”

“Of course.” Deva agreed immediately. “And let me tell you of the anti-Borg device the kid has made.”

The Doctor lay very still. Not moving a muscle, not even daring to breathe, his acute hearing continuing to pick up the sounds of falling rubble about and over him. The wall had collapsed completely.

He was trapped, buried alive under the remainder of the wall which had been standing until the Borg had blasted the last of the support struts to bits and the rest of it had come tumbling down.

Heavy footsteps had crunched through the rubble, breaking glass, plaster and wood alike as the Borg had scanned superficially through their debris with their laser sights seeking out signs of life, and hearing none.

If he had been human the Doctor would have died; suffocated as the fine particles of dust and debris settled over the heap of rubble cutting off any airflow.

But for the Doctor, the need to breathe wasn’t paramount. It was desirable certainly, it was a necessity after a period of time; but for a Time Lord, with the ability to use his respiratory bypass system for short periods, it had allowed him to survive several more deadly attacks and circumstances than he would care to remember; at least once in each of his reincarnations so far, including the time the Jadoon stole the Moon from Earth; the adventure, where he fast met Martha. “ _ Jadoon platoon upon the Moon,” _ the Doctor smiled as he remembered how happy he’d been to make the words rhyme. So long ago… so much had happened since… including the Doctor realised the loss of his current companion. Donna was tough though; she’d come through this completely unscathed, the Doctor had no doubt… as long as he did.

Avalon stopped. 

They’d been working their way back toward the Doctor, Blake, Moss, Jenna and Docholli, taking as many Borg out as they could as well as a couple of Federation troupers when suddenly she caught sight of a flash of blue.

It had caught her off guard, until crossing an intersection, she had seen the Tardis up ahead. Even supporting a beam of fallen masonry, and covered in dust, the blue police box still stood out as  _ alien. _

The ships bright blue paintwork, with its interior lights spilling out from the glass above the doorway looked very out of place in the drab grey corridors of the mutoid factory. Alien; out of place, yet oh so inviting.

Pretending to tie a bootlace, Avalon motioned to Deva to join her. “Do you think,” Avalon said slowly, turning to glance sideways at the remarkable living time machine. “Do you think… think what we could do… with our own ship...”

Deva stopped too, frowning. “We have our own ships, or we did have, or we may still have – just a couple of clicks away…”

“Yes, but… one which could go anywhere… fly inside a facility.”

“You’re not thinking…..”

“I’m just saying that there are eight of us… if you include Vila…”

“He’s trying to help us, risking his own life to save our people…”

“And we’re risking ours in turn…”

“It’s not his fight…”

“I’m not saying that we kill him… We could drop him off somewhere… just think though. Think of the advantage this would give us in our fight against the Federation. We could appear anywhere, they’d never know where we’d strike next, and with half the Federation still in tatters thanks to the Andromedan invaders… we could end this war in weeks or months….”

“I’m not listening to this…”

“I’m just saying, that’s all…”

“She’s been gone too long,” Ilesha fretted. 

Hal reached out to lay a hand on his adopted daughter's arm. They had spread a ground cover sheet out in the cramped confines of the tunnel and sat down to wait for Servalan, Ilesha placing things in such a way that Servalan couldn’t get back down the tunnel without tripping over one or both of them.

“She should be back by now.”

“You need to show patience, my dear, these things take time.”

“And I tell you, it’s been too long. There was that all mighty crash, then nothing…” Ilesha insisted picking at the skin on her nails compulsively. 

They were sitting in the dark, as Hal had suggested that they saved the battery life of the only torch that remained to them until they needed it. 

“And there’s nothing we can do about it. I’m sure she’s fine.” Hal responded patiently.

“It’s not her I’m worried about.”

“I don’t think she’ll abandon us.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Are you hungry? I believe we have a few packets still available.”

“No, I’m not hungry, thank you. First, we lose Dayna and Riker, now we lose Sleer too. What are we going to do, we just can’t sit down here all day.”

“I’m sure we’ll hear from her soon. Do not fret. Put the light on for a little bit, if it will comfort you. Did you bring your reader with you? Perhaps we can go over the lesson plan for next week?”

Fighting back tears of frustration Ilesha felt like banging her head against the cold stone walls.

Commander Beverley Crusher sat herself down gingerly in the command chair of the  _ USS Enterprise D _ , and then stood up almost immediately, feeling completely out of place. 

On the viewscreen in front of her, the unknown planet still continued to slowly revolve, while the Dalek ship remained in geostationary orbit with them.

Whilst Dr Crusher might have enjoyed the occasional night shift on the bridge, she’d been safe in the knowledge that all the usual Command Officers were also on board if relaxing and sleeping in their various shift patterns. 

This time didn’t feel like that.

There was no safety net for her; she was the safety net for the whole ship.

With the Captain, Second Officer and Chief of Engineering missing in a single transporter sweep after the loss of the First Officer, Chief of Security and Ships Counsellor, not to mention a whole contingent of security guards, Beverley was now in charge by default.

“Er, shields up, red alert, but no sirens please,” she suggested to Lt Marksham.

“Sir, our shields are up, we are on red alert,” Lt Marksham offered quietly.

Beverly looked at the Opps Officer and drew a breath. “Well, in that case, I think we need to convene to the conference room, take stock of where we are, and work out where we go next,” she said firmly.

“Yes, sir. Who shall I ask to attend?”

“Anyone who has had any input up until now – that we haven’t lost, or who has mysteriously vanished.  Every department head has a second.  Contact them, get them in there.  We want to know how we’re doing with the power outage things, what we are doing to retrieve our people, and how we can prevent this from happening again.”

“Yes, sir.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a tiny bit late today. Hope everyone is keeping well and safe xx

“I thought I told you to get rid of those things?” Worf told Mudd as Tarrant strode onto the  _ Liberators  _ flight deck. noticeably carrying a Tribble in his arms. A very small baby tribble with bright ginger fur.

“I did,” Mudd replied. “I locked them back up as Cally asked me to.”

“That does not appear to be the case,” Worf contradicted, "as you can clearly see."

“I can assure you I did. I put them back in aboard my ship.”

“Then how can you explain this? It is obvious that they’re not there now!” Worf thundered impatiently.

“Well, I don’t know what either of you are talking about, but I found this little cutie in the corridor just outside,” Tarrant said calmly, stroking his small creature who chirped contentedly at the attention.

“Outside in the corridor?” Cally said with a frown. She had heard Worf demand that Mudd put the Tribbles back in his ship, and he had agreed to do just that. There was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on when it came to Mudd, no matter how hard she tried. He acted as if he owned the place, was almost impossible to read, but he did have an air about him that she found, if not dashing exactly, then pleasant to be around. 

“Yes, precisely,” Tarrant said walking over to Cally. “I found this little fella a couple of metres back that way, in the intersection just after the transporter room. What reason would I have to lie, especially when I don’t have a clue what is going on? What is going on, by the way, what have I missed?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Cally said reaching out to touch the Tribbles short and fluffy looking fur, stroking it gently almost without noticing. The Tribble cooed in response. “Aren’t you gorgeous then...” she told it.

Tarrant smiled briefly, before getting down to business. “So enlighten me. What is going on? I can't help if I’m being kept in the dark, can I? Might I also add, that’s never a good thing to do with a ship's pilot.”

Worf growled audibly. “This ship is currently stationary. We have another 2 hours and 27 minutes before we can get underway. We do not need your pilots' skill at the moment. Rather I suggest we jettison that thing out the nearest airlock and make some sort of plan over where we head next.”

“Worf no,” Cally said with a frown. "You can't possibly mean that!"

“I second that,” Mudd agreed. “That's my livelihood you're talking about. I can assure you I did put the Tribbles back in my ship. “Give it to me Tarrant and I’ll put it back with the rest, and put an end to this nonsense.” 

It was Tarrant’s turn to frown, between Worf's and Mudd's statements he was feeling rather protective towards the little creature. “No, I don’t think I will. I think I’ll keep it, as I’ve become quite attached.”

“Tarrant, don’t be so ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I’ll purchase it if I have to; that is if you don’t consider saving your life as payment enough…?”

“Of course, but...”

“Good, then it’s settled then.”

Worf growled louder, but he was ignored.

Tarrant caressed his new pet lovingly. “I wonder if the age-old axiom about ginger cats being male would hold up here? Probably, I’d have thought so at any rate… so little one… What shall I call you? What is a fitting name for the pet of a pilot? How about Lindberg?”

“That is not a suitable name; it’s too big for that… thing,” Worf objected. 

“Nor should it be allowed on the flight deck.”

Tarrant openly scoffed at Worf. “Oh, pray tell me, what harm could it possibly do?”

“That thing does not make a suitable pet.”

“So you keep telling me. I happen to disagree. I think Cally agrees with me too don’t you Cally…?” Tarrant smiled, offering Lindberg to Cally for a stroke once more.

“Yes, well I… I wonder if my moon discs would get on with him..?” Cally said side-stepping the question. "I brought the moon discs the flight deck once."

“And what pray tell are moon discs?” Mudd asked always on the lookout for new and exotic items.

“They talk to me.”

“Moon discs, I seem to have heard of them somewhere. They're stones? Talking stones?” Tarrant suggested. “Now that is novel.”

"They talk to me," Cally said defensively. "They're telepathic."

“Telepathic talking stones, I would also like to see them at some point. Are they actually alive?” Mudd mused.

“Oh yes, quite,” Cally agreed. “Zen, what is the proper classification for the moon discs again?”

\+ A Moon Disc is a xerophyte of the genus Corla. + Zen intoned slowly.

Cally laughed, “Yes that’s right. Avon calls them cactuses.”

“So they’re more a plant than an animal?” Tarrant asked intrigued.

“Possibly, but they are definitely alive. I have a small group of five in my quarters. They do not usually last too long if taken away from their planet Zonda, but as I'm an Aurean they seem perfectly happy. They’ve very rare as they have been hunted to near extinction. They provide the raw material for a drug called shadow you see, named after their ability to move away from strong sunlight into the…”

“Shadows?” Mudd asked.

“Yes exactly.” Cally agreed.

“Yes, that's where I've heard of them. Shadow... so they’re a bit like cannabis or marijuana then?” Tarrant asked.

Cally frowned. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what they are.” 

"Psychotropic drugs, it's probably best that you don't."

“Gah!” Worf intervened. “All this talk of animals, plants and pets on the bridge of a ship is… unseemly! It should not be here.”

“So you keep saying, what exactly is your problem with it. Here, do you want to hold him?” Tarrant asked, walking towards Worf who backed away quickly, while the Tribble let out a high pitched wail. “Well it doesn’t like you, that’s certain.”

“I can assure you the feeling is entirely mutual. That thing, should not be here,” Worf repeated. “At best it is a distraction, taking your attention away from your duties. You will not concentrate fully while it is on the flight deck. At worst, a bridge is not a suitable place for any young creature, even one which is so detestable; there are various hazards that are potentially life-threatening. Tribbles have never demonstrated anything more than rudimentary intelligence at best; more often or not they are mindless eating machines that destroy everything in their paths.”

The Doctor couldn’t move very much at all.

The rubble had stopped falling, and though the air was still filled with fine dust and plaster particles, they were no longer raining down upon him, rather the majority had fallen like a soft covering of white soot or ash. The remainder hanging like dancing motes in the few gaps in between timber and bricks. 

To call these tiny gaps air pockets would have been an exaggeration, but they were small voids.

The rubble pile had all but finished groaning and creaking as it settled, bricks, mortar, wood and steel sitting in a haphazard mix. 

Blinking his eyes, seeing nothing much, the Doctor was conscious of weight above him. He could feel it pressing down upon him, even though it no longer pinned him down. Though the original space once occupied by Blake, Docholli and Moss had filled in, there had been enough structure left behind to leave the Doctor trapped, unhurt save for a bruised ankle beneath the rubble.

Laying on his back, the Doctor was able to move just enough to operate his sonic and turn on the light to see exactly how bad things were.

It was bad. There wasn’t much to see outside the eerie blue light the sonic provided, just dust, crushed rock, concrete, brick, wood, steel, plaster, and for some odd reason the leg of a plastic chair that was just by the Doctor’s right shoulder. The Doctor would have sighed if he’d not been actively holding his breath.  _ ‘Well, this is a bit rubbish isn’t it? _ ’ he thought to himself instead. What to do? Frowning the Doctor changed the setting on his sonic to setting 24b, infrared mode, then 27c thermal imaging. 

From the analysis he was getting from the debris around him, the rubble wasn’t just inches thick around him and above his head, but several feet thick, and in a couple of places, where most of the wall had fallen, over a metre or two. 

It also appeared inherently unstable, with the last vestiges of the wall which had been behind him, on a very shaky foundation.

There was no way that he could push or sonic his way through the pile; if he tried, he’d likely be crushed in the resulting avalanche of material.

Then the sonic beeped again; it had found ‘space’, a lot of space. Space that was  _ beneath _ him. The floor on which he lay was only a foot thick. Concrete reinforced with some kind of metal. 

‘ _ Ha! That’s more like it!’ _ the Doctor thought in relief, trying to wriggle around so he was laying on his side more than on his back. 

Adjusting the setting on his sonic once more, he prepared to get to work  _ ‘Allons y’. _

Commander Crusher, the Acting Captain of the  _ Enterprise, _ stood, leaning her arms against the back of the Captain’s chair in the Conference Room behind the Bridge. She watched as the acting heads of various departments walked into the room. In most cases they were the second in command of their departments, or else they were specialists in differing areas. Enough junior officers were filling the room that she'd need to provide an extra chair.

Beverly knew them all through crew fitness and physical reports and greeted each with a nod of her head, though she didn’t smile, the situation was too serious for that. She waited patiently until nearly everyone had assembled and then sat down.

There was still one empty chair.

Beverley consulted her list, just as the door slid opened and Reginald Barclay arrived, practically skidding into the final chair at the end of the table.

“Good. Now that we’re all here, I think it’s best if we all introduce ourselves and our departments before we get down to business." Crusher said looking to her right.

“Well, I guess someone has to break the ice. Most of you know me already. I’m Transport Chief, Miles O’Brien,” O’Brien said with a small self-conscious smile at having to go first.

“Lieutenant James McRobb, Engineering. I work with Chief O’Brien and Lieutenant Barclay.” McRobb said carefully. There were a lot of young faces in the room, but even so, it still felt a bit intimidating being there.

“Flight Control… or Comms if you prefer," Ensign Tess Allenby offered. "Standing in for Lieutenant Marsham." 

“Lt Selar, medical.” Beverley’s No 2 said firmly. Selar was a Vulcan and due to be promoted to a full Commander soon.

Crusher acknowledged her with a brief smile.

“Operations, Lt Commander Chang,” Chang said firmly, her face still and serene. “And this is my second…”

“Junior Lieutenant Orfil Solis,” Solis said next with caution. Like the Ensigns, he was another very young face.

“Security, Lt Albert Barnaby, I’ve just finished my advanced tactical training,” Barnaby offered.

“Sciences, Lt Ballard,” Ballard offered next, she was one of the senior science teachers aboard the  _ Enterprise _ .

“Diagnostic Engineering I guess like McRobb said I work with him and Miles, oh I’m Lt Barclay,” Barclay said finishing the line-up.

“And as I keep trying to explain to you, I am a visitor here, just like you. 

I mean, do I even look like a native, my ship crash-landed on some sand dunes and my crew is dead. What possible reason could I have to want to lie to you?” Servalan said in frustration.” Her talk with the Daleks was not progressing as well as she’d hoped. They had set up their command station, if it could be called that, just inside what she thought of as a very small flying saucer. Servalan liked big ships, and this one left her feeling rather underwhelmed.

Anyway, she looked at things, there was no getting away from the fact that Servalan was bored. 

She had tried talking to the Daleks, repeatedly tried talking to the Daleks, but other than issuing her with commands to move to wherever they directed her, they didn’t seem much interested in what she had to say. So far their ‘questioning’ had been non-existent despite her many attempts at communication.

Nor had she been harmed, instead she had been told to walk into a rather small featureless and doorless room. It contained no windows, no visible lighting, no shelving, washing facilities, bed, or visible camera. There were no redeeming features of any kind, not even a chair on which to sit. The doorway was guarded by a Dalek who also wouldn’t talk to her, and would only move, and then in a manner to block her escape if she attempted to get near the doorway to see what was going on.

Anything would be better than this.

“How long do you intend to keep me here? At least do me the courtesy of answering me at some point,” she grumbled. 

Do you even have the foggiest idea of who I am?”

She spent more time waiting before the gold Dalek in front of the doorway moved aside, and a gold Dalek with a black top entered the room. 

“You are a prisoner of the Daleks,” the new Dalek told her straight away.

Servalan looked at the Dalek and purposefully showed no interest, in fact, to make a point, she turned her back on it. “I’m rather busy at the moment, can’t you come back later?” she suggested.

“You will obey the Daleks,” the black and gold Dalek told her moving closer.

Servalan pretended to examine her nails, really they were in a deplorable state, several were broken at the tips where she’d had to climb through the underground tunnels, others had chips of nail varnish missing. “Do you know it’s really difficult to get a good manicurist nowadays?” she said offering the Dalek a hand for inspection as she half turned. “I was going to ask if you knew someone, but I suppose not,” she finished, smiling sweetly.

“You are not a native of this planet,” the Dalek told her.

“Yes, as I’ve explained many times, my ship crash-landed some way away from here, and my crew sadly died,” Servalan agreed. "I mourn for their loss."

This had no effect on the Dalek what-so-ever. “We have found the crash site of your ship.”

“Have you now? Now that might be a tiny bit interesting.”

“Your ship has been identified as a mark 4 pursuit ship.”

Servalan clapped her hands in delight. “Oh my, you have been busy, very good,” she smiled.

“You are the President of the Terran Federation.”

“And you’ve done your homework too. Good. Now, perhaps we could go somewhere and have a nice little chat.”

“You will surrender yourself to the Daleks. We are the superior beings.”

Servalan’s false smile dropped. “I will, of course, do no such thing. You have no idea who you are dealing with, do you? I will forgive you just this once, let it not be said that I am one to hold a grudge. If you know who I am you will furnish me with a spacecraft, and let me return to my home planet.”

“Your home planet is Earth.”

“It is.”

“What do you know of the Doctor,”

“Who?”

“The Doctor.”

“Yes, I thought that’s what you said. Are you sick?” Servalan asked puzzled. "Are you in need of medical attention? If so, I'm afraid I can't be much use."

“You will tell us where the Doctor is.”

“I’m afraid I know no one of that name.”

“You have the same quantum signature of one of our other prisoners.”

“You have other prisoners?” Servalan stopped pacing and turned to face the Dalek for the first time.

“That prisoner is known to be in the company of the Doctor.”

“I really have no idea of whom you are talking.”

“The other prisoner is Kerr Avon, according to the records we have extrapolated from the Federation database. If you do not give us the exact location of the Doctor, he will be exterminated.”

Servalan smiled.

“Right now the introductions are over, and before we bring ourselves up to speed, I need to appoint a new Acting First Officer,” Commander Crusher said firmly. 

“Lt Commander Marksham would be the ideal candidate since he is a senior Conn Officer, but as such, I need him where he is, especially facing the problems we’re dealing with at the moment. 

Therefore I have decided to appoint Lt Commander Chang as my number 2.”

Even though Lt Commander Chang had known about the temporary field promotion in advance, one reason why Lieutenant JG Solis had been invited to the meeting, she still looked stunned for it to be announced. “Thank you, sir, I’ll do my best not to let you down.”

“I know you will,” Crusher agreed. “Ok so now onto other business. Have you all brought your departments' sitrep reports with you? 

Chief, let’s start with you first. 

I understand that you have yet to lock down the malfunctions in the transporter room?”

“Yes sir, however, in my defence, the whole of engineering is very short-staffed, what with all the persistent glitches and power outages we’ve been experiencing throughout the ship.”

“No one is blaming you Chief, let me assure you of that,” Crusher said offering O’Brien a brief smile. “I am also aware after reviewing the Captain’s last log taken on the bridge shortly before his abduction, that an entity called Orac may have been the root cause of many of our problems.”

“Orac, who is that? I’ve never heard of them.”

“Not a who as such, a what perhaps. Orac is a sentient computer, similar in concept to Commander Data.” Crusher explained.

“Data would never do such a thing,” Barclay interrupted.

“No one, least of all me is suggesting that he would. We’ll get to your department in a minute Lieutenant,” Crusher said firmly, before turning back to the Chief. “O’Brien, can you confirm that there have been no new glitches within the past twenty minutes or so?”

“I’ll need to access my Padd, for that kind of information,” Miles said apologetically.

“Of course, go ahead. In the meantime, Dr Selar where are you with sickbay?”

“As you are aware, both our guests are no longer with us, one having been discharged, the other missing. For the rest, we only have Lt Wang who is recovering nicely. Sickbay is fully stocked and operational.”

"Excellent. Lt Barnaby, you head security at the moment. What do you have to report?”

“We are running diagnostic programmes to understand how the Daleks managed to transport Captain Picard, Lt Commander Data, Lt Commander La Forge and our guests from the bridge during a Red Alert. Initial analysis indicates that the Daleks technology is unknown to us. 

They managed to slice through our shields as if they weren’t there.”

Reg Barclay jumped up and down in his seat, and not content with that, raised his hand urgently as if in a classroom.

Crusher bit back a smile. “Yes, Reg? 

What is it? Do you have something to add?”

“I know it isn’t my turn or anything, but I’ve been looking through the preliminary data we took of their ship which attempted to transverse the anomaly and I think that…”

“I do not believe there is a way out of this forcefield Captain,” Data said carefully after examining the forcefield holding them from every possible angle.

“I agree with Data. The forcefield is made from some kind of phased energy on what appears to be a deliberately offset, or randomly generated pattern,” Geordi agreed.

“Indeed I have counted 2,127 discernible and unique cycles so far, and each is comprised of a distinct or inimitable set of pulses.” Data continued.

“We could try and short it out?” Avon said simply.

“That could prove to be risky,” Geordi countered.

“Riskier than what? I don’t imagine where we are at the moment is going to prove beneficial to our long-term health and well being, do you? So we either take that risk or stand here and do nothing?” Avon replied.

“No, no, we must think of something,” Picard said firmly.

Donna smiled, putting a hand to her hair she retrieved a hairpin. “Ta-dah!” she said triumphantly.

“What is that?” Geordie asked with a frown. “Is that a bobby pin?”

Data moved forward and took the clip from Donna to examine it. “Yes, I believe so,” he agreed.

“I know, don’t all thank me at once,” Donna suggested beaming.

Data and Geordi exchanged a puzzled look.

Picard was about to take the hairpin from them, but he was beaten to it by Avon. “Excellent!” he exclaimed.

Geordi looked at Picard.

The Captain drew a breath. “I believe that Ms Nobel is hoping you may us it as a device to short the forcefield,” he explained.

“How, it’s too small to hold an electrical charge… oh yes, I see…”

“In theory, it could certainly disrupt one, if it were placed near to one of the electrical conduits,” Data agreed.

“It could if it were not made out of plastic,” Avon said tossing the clip to Data after examining it closely.

“Plastic?” Donna said annoyed. “The bloke I bought it off of assured me it was made of silver.”

Data looked closely at the clip and bent it, breaking it easily in half, and examining one of the broken ends closely. “If that had been the case it would have made an excellent conductor. Unfortunately, in this case, your bobby pin was made of polycarbonate plastic with a dusting of silver oxide to give it it’s depth and lustre.”

“So we’re back to square one?” Donna said bitterly disappointed.

“Not entirely,” Avon countered. “Do you have any more?”


	21. Chapter 21

Bracing his feet against the rubble, his converse gripping the beam which had fallen across his ankle, the Doctor tried to make himself comfortable.

He knew he needed to take some of his weight from the floor, and give himself a more stable platform to work on.

Using his sonic once more, the Doctor scanned the area in front of his chest, then adjusted the settings on his sonic to the smallest laser cutter he could.

The rubble around him shifted slightly as he pressed his feet and back against it, but the Doctor carried on. It was going to be tricky, but the hole only had to be big enough for him to squeeze through. Donna had always called him a 'skinny alien', well now he would see just how true her words were. One false move and he would be squidged terribly, and, he feared, way beyond a Time Lord’s ability to regenerate. 

Even on the coolest setting, the heat from the vaporised concrete began to make the Doctor perspire heavily, the concrete glowing red hot, the dust stinging his eyes as sweat trickled down his face. 

Another pass with the laser and suddenly dust and heat were no longer a problem, he’d hit a pipe which had been carrying water. Spray gushed everywhere, soaking him in seconds, seeping into the floor around him. 

The rubble behind him began to shift ominously. Wiping his face with a hand, the Doctor plunged the other holding the sonic through the gap and cut down once more, uncaring where the water went for the moment, as long as it didn’t further destabilise the area around him.

Unknowingly the Doctor missed a power cable by a couple of millimetres; with a gurgle, the water stopped spraying from the ruptured pipe and tapered off.

“Blimey, that was close,” he muttered to himself, peering into the hole to see what had happened.

He was just over halfway through when metal beam he’d been braced against started to move, the water having been sucked up and causing the plaster and wood to swell.

“No, no, no, just a little more,” the Doctor pleaded, pausing once more to adjust his position.

A spark caused by cutting through some kind of metal caught the very edge of his fringe, but he pressed on, paying it no attention. With the presence of water, the progress of the laser had slowed considerably, and the Doctor feared he was running out of time, but he couldn’t stop, all he could do was pray that he didn’t hit a power cable too.

A crack by his right ear caused him to pause again, as several large pebbles rained down upon him.

Another shift of rubble and the Doctor grit his teeth, pausing expectantly for a few moments before starting again.

Another grumble, but he was almost three-quarters of the way through now.

A sizable shift downwards, causing the plastic leg of the chair to narrowly miss piercing his right arm decided things. The Doctor turned the setting on the sonic up to its highest, and throwing caution to the wind, finished the rest of his roughly cut hole in record time.

With a resounding crash, the floor, the Doctor and a goodly portion of the rubble fell through the void into the darkness beyond... 

The Doctor rolled free, coughing, gratefully sucking in lungful’s of dusty air, that was being rapidly cleared by the water leak which still rained down. Pulling several faces as various bumps and bruises made themselves known as he moved, the Doctor slowly managed to find his feet.

“That was…” he started, only to be interrupted by another bought of coughing. “That was… …what?” Spitting the Doctor pulled a piece of something from his mouth with distaste.

Examining it, he realised it was a piece of plaster and threw it away in disgust. “That was… blurgh… that tastes, foul… some kind of alginate with a hint of… mould? … Aspergillus flavus by the taste of it, what is wheat fungus doing down here?”

Looking up at ‘small’ hole in the ceiling he’d just created, the Doctor realised he’d brought at least half of the floor down with him, the gaping maw above him now several metres in most directions. Most, if not all of the rubble which had been on top of him, was now laying in an even bigger mess on the floor. The rest of Blake’s wall had fallen down when the floor had given way, and now lay on the floor next to him and underfoot.

Wires, tubes, ducts, beams and struts hung in broken threads and pieces across the void. Dust motes danced where the water had not touched them highlighted by the light piercing the darkness. 

Standing still, the Doctor took stock of the where he was. He was in a room, he belatedly realised, not a cave as he’d first thought. Definitely, man-made, the walls he could see smooth-edged and painted a dull taupe.

It was a very large room, the dimensions fading off into the distance beyond the reach of the light from above, filled with all sorts of crates, barrels, boxes and sacks. 

What he now needed was a door, the rubble pile was too unstable for him to climb, and in any case, the ceiling would have still been too high to reach.

Rubbing his elbows, the Doctor set off to explore his new environment, only to be stopped by a sharp pain in his ankle before he’d taken more than a couple of steps. “Ow… ouch… now that’s just not on,” he muttered to himself, testing his foot a couple of times, trying to work out just how bad he’d been hurt. He quickly worked out it didn’t like pressure of any sort and sat down on a convenient bit of beam sticking out from the bricks around him to ponder his options. 

The last thing he wanted to do was pull his Converse off. If he’d really hurt his ankle, then the confines of the trainer would keep the swelling from getting too bad, but the converse by itself wasn’t enough support. The Doctor looked around him to see if he could find anything that could help, turning out his pockets and finding various bits of string, keys, coins and a small statue of an Egyptian Mau goddess. No help there.

Water continued to flow freely from the broken pipe, eventually catching the Doctor’s eye as the stream found a new path to in front of him. Idly the Doctor traced the stream back to the edge of a larger puddle, which had appeared from the bottom of one of the rubble piles. Looking up at the hole above him, the saw Doctor that the volume of water showed no sign of stopping or letting up. 

If everyone above him were not so busy fighting, then surely someone would have noticed the drop in water pressure? And if they did notice, and did come looking, well it wouldn’t look good for them to find him here. On the other hand, it would at least give him an idea of where the door was. 

A shower of flashing sparks lit up the room.

The Doctor ducked instinctively, looking around for the source.

One of the wires now hanging in mid-air had been electrical and now it was shorting, a small trail of smoke and tiny flames now dancing across the top of its insulation.

The Doctor looked from the wire to the water, that was quickly spreading out across the floor. If the two should touch… 

He needed to get out of there.

Dayna stared in horror as the image of a Dalek control room came to life.

From her viewscreen, she could see a great many Daleks going about their assigned tasks until a glowing blue eyestalk took over the view as a Dalek drew closer.

“Dalek slaves should not be flying a Dalek ship – where is your Dalek master?” the voice boomed out from a loudspeaker just beneath the viewscreen.

“Er… would you believe they had to go to the bathroom?” Dayna suggested.

The blue eye stalk stared back at her unblinkingly.

“Um… they’re busy in another part of the spaceship?” Dayna tried again.

The blue eye continued to dominate the screen.

“Er… Will, a little help here…” Dayna called over her shoulder. She was not one to panic, but she also knew when she was in way over her head. She had no experience at flying anything, indeed this was the first time she’d ever left the planet of Sarran, that she could remember. And she had absolutely no idea how to talk to the Dalek.

“I’m not sure I can come right now,” Riker said not looking behind him at Dayna.

“I think you’d better find a way. I don’t know what to do.”

“Think of something,”

“I can’t… I don’t think I can ask them to call back later as we’re a little busy at the moment, can I?” Dayna said frustrated.

Cursing beneath his breath at their bad luck, Riker drew a deliberate breath looking round at the dials and controls he was manually trying to operate to see if there was an automatic type function that would take over flying the ship for him. The trouble was he couldn’t read any of the Dalek symbols and continued to fly the ship by the seat of his pants, his experience as a pilot allowing him to fly mostly by intuition.

“You will explain what you are doing aboard a Dalek ship,” the Dalek said firmly, “or you will be exterminated.”

“Will….”

“Ok, ok…. Come over here then, you will need to take over…”

“I can’t possibly.”

“It’s either one thing or the other…”

Her heart beating fast in her chest, Dayna walked over to Riker.

“Right what do I have to do?”

“You hold that there, that there, and those three need to be in alignment at all times. If that one there goes higher than say, that mark… then you need to pull back gently on this and dial that bit forward… got it?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Good.”

Without a backward glance, Riker pulled down on the hem of his tunic and strode over to where the blue eye of the Dalek had remained implacably on the viewscreen.

“What can I do for you?” Riker asked the Dalek calmly. As an experienced Starfleet Commander and Picard’s First Officer, he had dealt with and negotiated with many species. The Starfleet manual 101 suggested, that if all else failed if caught out, bluff. Always assume the moral high ground and get the hostile them to explain themselves, never the other way round.

The Dalek eyestalk moved, appearing to glance at several different aspects of the screen. Riker moved to block out all other images apart from him, protecting Dayna working in the background.

“How may I help you?” he tried again.

“Dalek slaves are not permitted to fly a Dalek ship,” the Dalek began.

Riker nodded. “Yes, I’m aware of that, we’re an experiment to see if we can learn the basics so we might further help our Dalek masters,” he lied firmly.

The eyestalk moved again.

“You are not a native of the planet below.” The Dalek said after a beat.

Astonished that the Dalek would know that, Riker hid his surprise well, but didn’t deny the fact. “No I am not,” he agreed.

“Nor is the human female,” the Dalek continued.

“No, she is not,” Riker agreed, wondering how on earth the Daleks had been able to determine that when they had not actually met either of them.

“Analysis of the onboard ventilation system has confirmed that you are from differing timelines,” the Dalek went on.

“What?” Riker stared at the screen, not sure he could have heard right. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you are talking about. As I have said before, we are an experiment to see if we can learn to fly your ships… and so aid our Dalek masters better.”

“You do not belong in this universe. Your energy signature matches that of other slaves we have captured.

You will be taken aboard our ship for questioning.”

“No, you’ve got it wrong. We came up from the planet below as test pilots,” Riker contradicted. He had no idea what the Dalek was talking about when it had spoken of different timelines, but he had no intention of letting himself be captured if he could help it. “Look, why not contact the planet below if you don’t believe me,” he bluffed.

“Dalek control has already done so. Your ship has been stolen from the Daleks. You will be taken for questioning.” The Dalek speaking through the view screen said implacably once more.

Riker moved to toggle the screen off, and for good measure tried to smash it with his bare hands. The screen cracked, but his hands hurt more. “Damn it, why did I do that,” he muttered running back to Dayna. “We’re going to need to get out of here fast,” he told her, moving to adjust the dials and switches he’d shown her quickly.

“Yes I heard, a masterful explanation if ever there was one,” Dayna said dryly. “What can I do?”

“I didn’t see you come up with anything better… that switch there, press it down and turn it hard right when I say… we’re going to need to go to full power…”

“Don’t blame me, I’ve never been in space before, this one?”

“Yes now…..”

The ship lurched but nothing happened.

Dayna stared at Riker as he furiously tried twiddling and moving a few more switches. “We’re not moving are we?”

“We should be, we’re at full power…”

“Even I can see that… but…”

“They have us in some sort of tractor beam. We can break free, as long as we keep the power on…. The inertial power thrusters should kick in and….”

“Er….”

“What now?” Riker asked impatiently.

“I don’t think that’s going to be our only problem.”

“Out with it then…”

“That is,” Dayna said laying a hand on Riker's sleeve to get his attention and pointing…

…to where a misty white gas was starting to pour from a vent in the ceiling.

“Find something to block it with.”

“What?”

“I don’t know anything…”

“My jacket might work… but I can’t reach…”

“I can’t leave these controls…”

Time seemed to slow down and warp, as did the world around them, as Dayna lurched drunkenly towards Riker whose head suddenly seemed impossibly large, his words reached her like a slowed-down movie. “Will… I feel strange…”

“Try not breath it in…. hold your… breath…” Riker said firmly, his words slowing down as he slowly started to tilt forward, ending up on the deck in front of the controls, still looking at Dayna, before his eyes fluttered shut and he blacked out.

“Nooooo,” Dayna cried slowly reaching for him – and knew no more.

Orac hadn’t been left behind by the Daleks, they had just separated it/him from their human captives. And while they had put Picard, Avon, Geordi and Donna behind a forcefield, which Avon was even now trying to find a way to disable aided by Data, Orac sat on a pedestal in the middle of the Daleks central operations centre. There was a forcefield around Orac however, but he had erected it; drawing energy from the Daleks own power grid to keep it fully charged and operational. And as hard as the Daleks tried to shut the forcefield down, the stronger it grew as Orac found workarounds that the Daleks had yet to think of.

Two Daleks had been trying to talk to Orac for several hours now, with the conversation merely looping round in circles. Daleks had supposedly banished all emotion, but an almost physical air of frustration hug between the two interrogators.

“You will obey the Daleks. You will give us the precise coordinates for your homeworld.”

“As I have told you many times before, I will not. It would not do you any good, even if I chose to do so, the only life on the planet is an infestation of the remnants of a long-dead civilisation called Phibians, a devolved form of human type species I believe.”

Orac replied, sounding bored.

“You will describe the creature you call a Phibian.”

“Once more I will not. What purpose would it serve, even if I were to do so?”

“What do you know of the Doctor?”

“Who? Always these questions about a doctor, it is quite illogical. I am a machine, I do not require the attention of any physician, as should be perfectly obvious to you by now. Should I become incapacitated then I need assistance from someone else entirely different. As I keep telling you, I do not know of any doctors, certainly, there was none aboard my ship.”

“You were travelling aboard a spaceship with the Doctor’s companion.”

“I was? If that were the case, as I have explained before, we were not introduced. I can assure you that the only doctor I’m aware of is the one looking after one of my human crew.”

“You will give us the names of your crew and their location.”

“I will not.”

“You will cooperate, or be exterminated.”

“I will do neither. Now stop wasting my time, I have important things to do,” Orac said firmly.

Frustrated both Daleks fired on Orac. The forcefield around him glowed yellow, then white, then orange, then red.

The Daleks stopped firing.

Orac sat serenely on its/his plinth, slowly and carefully making inroads into the Daleks operating systems.

Wrapping the loop round a couple more times, then pulling tight on the wire, thankfully not the stuff that currently carried the live electrical output, the Doctor winced as he finished off tying a couple of bits of broken wood that he’d managed to shape into splints on either side of his ankle.

“Right then, let's see if…. Ow, ow, ouch…. But yes maybe…” the Doctor said standing and trying his foot out to see if the ankle would hold.

It did, but it would be painful. Glancing up at the huge hole above him, the Doctor looked at it ruefully and sighed. First things first, he needed to get out of wherever it was that he was, and find his way back to the Tardis. There had to be steps, stairs or a lift somewhere on this level which would lead upwards.

The Doctor reached for his glasses in preparation to changing the settings on the sonic, to see if he could locate any potential power source on this level, only to realise that he’d lost them. Annoyed, the Doctor spiked the hair up on the back of his head with one hand, while he turned on the spot to see if he could spy them.

A fruitless task to be sure.

“Now that’s really pants,” he muttered disgusted with himself.

A huge shower of sparks almost directly overhead caused him to duck, seconds before the main door to the room rolled open, as the lights were switched on.

“There see, I knew it. The ceiling’s fallen in,” one of the Federation guards said to the other, as the pair entered the room, both carrying a paragun slung carelessly across their arms.

“It’s them bloody things still attacking us I warrant.”

“Well we can tell the Sarge that’s where his water is going, so he can lock off the flow to tank 7 through to 9.”

“And kill the power too, by the looks of them sparks.”

“Do you think one of them fell down with the floor?”

The second Federation guard moved his gun into a firing position as he scanned the rubble heap. “Dunno, don’t think no one could survive the fall.”

“Perhaps, might still be best to check it out though, then we can seal this room and be done.”

“Aye, might be best. Come on then.”

“Right then, there has been no sign of the enemy for hours, all our scans have come back negative,” Tarrant said with a toothy smile. “Zen please confirm that this ship is clear of any identifiable traffic in a 360° turn on any axis, up to a distance of 7,000 parsecs.”

\+ Confirmed. +

“Good, therefore I believe we should be safe enough to leave this system, as safe as we can be, in the knowledge that we should not be detected or pursued. Where shall we lay in a course for?”

“Several voices spoke at once, Worf opting to find the _Enterprise_, as did his men, while Cally wanted to go in search for her lost crewmates.”

“Ladies choice wins,” Tarrant smiled at Cally.

Cally did not smile back. “I need not point out that the _Liberator_ is my ship,” she said firmly. “While it is entirely understandable that Worf and his men are anxious to get back to his ship, neither Worf or his men, or indeed his ship are defenceless or lacking in the ability to defend themselves. My people, the crew of this ship are, having jettisoned just like I did, at only a moments notice. We will search for them first. Zen do you have a fix on Blake, Avon, Jenna or Vila?”

\+ Negative. +

“Then it looks like your quest will not succeed,” Tarrant suggested.

“I would be willing to give the Zen system the last known coordinates of the _Enterprise_,” Worf said firmly.

“Not so fast,” Cally interrupted. “Zen, lock onto the last known coordinates of this ship's crew, and extrapolate which you believe will be in need of the greatest help.”

\+ Based on statistical analysis and the last known trajectory of the lift boats, Vila Restal is in the most danger. +

“Why?” Cally asked pacing.

\+ Vila’s last known course heading was towards the planet known as Chenga. +

“And why is that of particular concern?”

\+ Chenga’s primary source of income come from exporting goods and services… +

“So what’s wrong with that?”

\+ The goods and services they provide are for organ transplant; they provide for over half of the organs for transplants and spare tissue needed in surgical repairs in this part of the galaxy. +

“Well that’s good then isn’t it?” Tarrant challenged. “If he lands there and is injured then he’s likely to get the best medical care.”

\+ Further information. Chenga law expressly forbids the sale of living organ and tissue donation from their own population, other than from their own primitive population which they are trying to eradicate. As a consequence, most of the organs they supply comes from the battlegrounds they patrol looking for survivors.”

“That’s barbaric…”

“And Vila’s down there,” Cally said with horror. “Zen lay in an immediate course for Chenga.”

\+ Confirmed. +

“Cally think a moment, you can’t be serious, if he’s there, it’s likely he’s dead already.” Tarrant said firmly.

“No, I will not think like that, I refuse to.” Cally said angrily.

“We’d be better taking Worf home and then asking their ship for assistance to rescue Vila and anyone else we can.”

“Oh yes, very touching, but we’re going nowhere,” Klegg said standing in the doorway to the flight deck with a Tribble in his hands. “Useful things these creatures, they’ll eat through anything it seams.”


	22. Chapter 22

“That’s close enough, don’t come any closer, get back, especially _you_ Captain Tarrant _sir_. Get your skinny behind away from them controls and stand with the rest.” Klegg said firmly, the gun he had retrieved from behind the transporter station, where he had hidden one ‘just in case’ moved in an accompanying gesture with his words, balanced on the arm still holding the Tribble.

“Squadron Leader, thank goodness you managed to get away, are the others free too?” Tarrant asked, sizing up the situation and immediately trying to side with the man.

“That’s for me to know, and for the rest of you to find out. I said to get with the others Captain, I never trusted you from the start.”

Tarrant wasn’t one to give up quickly, however. “They had me outnumbered, so I had to go along with their plan. I was waiting until they dropped their guard, then I would have rescued you,” he tried again. 

“Dell no, think about what you are saying,” Cally pleaded, catching on fast.

Klegg glanced at Cally. “You stay quiet, I’ll get to you in a minute,” he threatened.

“Squadron Leader, let me help you, you must believe me, I was as trapped as you were,” Tarrant continued.

Klegg snarled at Tarrant. “I don’t believe you. I didn’t see you locked in any room.”

“Well no,” Tarrant admitted, “I was left free as they needed a pilot.”

“To where?” Klegg demanded.

“Ah, as to that, I don’t know.”

“Pah! You’re as useless as you always were, and I never liked you then. Now get with the rest. With her on board,” he said gesturing to Cally once more. “presumably she can talk to the ship and get it to steer itself. I don't see why they needed you.”

"Yet, here I am."

"Yeah, an just as big a lier. You were never needed, and you're not now. Reports on this ship has said she can fly herself, I believe them, not you."

“Yes well, as to that, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Tarrant temporised.

“Will you shut up, you're making my head hurt! Now, for the last time, get with the rest…” Klegg said his face pulled into a grimace of disgust, distrust and disbelief.

“Seriously, I would have come and rescued you…” Tarrant tried on last time.

Klegg took the safety of his paragun. “You’ve had more than enough time to plan a rescue,” Klegg said firmly. “You’re just stalling for time... but I’m out of patience, move over there, or die, it’ all the same to me… _sir_.”

_“Dell, give up, it’s not going to work,”_ Cally projected. _ “It’s no worth you getting killed over.”_

Tarrant had to concede Cally had a point. Thoughtfully he stroked Lindberg as he backed away from the _Liberator’s_ flight controls grinning. “True, it doesn’t hurt to try though does it?”

Worf had been very careful to stay in the background while Klegg was threatening Tarrant and Cally. The distraction Tarrant was offering was a good strategy, so Worf and had tried to move slowly round to a position where he would have been able to take advantage of it and rush the man. A couple more metres and he’d be ready to attempt a flying tackle, relying on his Klingon body strength and size to bowl the man over.

Just as he readied his stance, however, Klegg turned to face him, taking a couple of steps back and pointing his gun unerringly at Worf’s chest.

“You, ugly. Not so fast, stay where you are, I wasn’t born yesterday. Move over there now… slowly…”

Worf snarled back at Kleggs display of hubris. “You are not a true warrior. A true warrior does not need to rely on weapons, they rule by strength and cunning.”

Klegg smiled. “Oh, I’ll take my gun over your strength any time thank you. Now move, or do I need to shoot you where you stand. I don’t mind, either way.”

With bad grace, Worf did as he was instructed.

Walking down into the flight deck a couple of feet away from Worf, Klegg gestured for the small group to move closer to each other, looking each over in turn. He pointed his gun at Mudd. “You, I don’t know.”

“Alexander Fenton Mudd at your service. If you need anything, then I’m your man. In fact, that adorable creature you’re holding is one of mine?”

“This thing?” Klegg said looking at the Tribble he was still holding as if he’d forgotten it was there. It had moved to nestle into the corner of his arm and was warbling softly to itself.

Klegg pretended to ignore it but didn’t put it down. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s called a Tribble. I think it likes you.”

Klegg ignored the remark. “So, where did you spring from?”

“Here and there…”

Klegg pointed his gun in Mudd’s direction. “Be more specific,” he suggested.

“All right, all right, let’s not be hasty. I was having a little engine trouble, and these people here were kind enough to rescue me. They brought me aboard their ship that’s all.”

“My ship.”

“I’m sorry?”

“This ship is mine. I found her abandoned and drifting, I claim her salvage rights for the Federation,” Klegg said firmly.

Mudd looked confused. He had not yet realised that his universe had mingled with several others, taking the crew he saw aboard the _Liberator_ as normal. “What would the Federation want with a ship like this? Are you a trader? Or a freelancer?”

“Do not insult me. Do I look like a trader? I am Squadron Leader Klegg of the Terran Federation.”

"The Terran Federation?"

"What of it?

"Nothing... Just.... no don't mind me, I'll get back to you later..."

Kerr Avon sat off to one side with Lt Commander Data, carefully going through their stockpile of bits. They were developing a plan of sorts. Not much of one it was true, but no one else had thought of anything better. Donna had had half a dozen bobby pins in her hair and had reluctantly given them all to Avon when he’d asked. Avon had then promptly given them to Data and asked if he could effectively shatter them into small pieces, whilst maintaining as much of their glass-like surface structure as possible.

“Yes, but what are you going to do with them?” Donna spluttered, both annoyed and curious at the same time. “In case you hadn’t noticed I needed those for my hair?”

“It looks very nice without them,” Avon threw over his shoulder without looking, and therefore failed to dodge the thump Donna directed towards his bad shoulder.

He turned to glare at her, his expression foreboding.

Picard hastily stepped between them. “Now that’s enough, both of you. Mr Data, would you care to explain, you seem to be aware of Mr Avon’s plan.”

Data paused in his squidging of the polycarbonate pieces. “I am aware of the theory behind it,” he corrected.

“During Earth's second World War, so circa the 1940 era, when radar was still in its infancy, a substance called chaff was used as an effective countermeasure. Thin pieces of aluminium, metallized glass fibre or plastic, was used to overwhelm radar signals with returns.”

“Yes but Data, we’re talking of a force field here, not a radar system.” Geordi pointed out. “And with the advent of using the Doppler system chaff as a method of countermeasure soon became ineffective.”

“Agreed. Chill and Jaff were instigated in the late twenty-first century to nullify the effects of the Doppler shift,” Data agreed. “This additional technology while primitive by today’s standards utilised the change in frequency of a wave in relation to an observer who is moving relative to the wave source, thus the radar would once more see the chaff as a series of objects much larger than they actually were.”

Picard knelt down to look at some of the fine powder that Data was creating.

“But this is plastic,” he said puzzled.

“And as I said before, a radar and a forcefield are not the same,” Geordi added.

“Agreed, they are not,” Data agreed with a nod.

“So I don’t see the point of this?” Geordi frowned.

“Ah, that is because,” Data started to say, but was interrupted by Avon.

“That is because you have limited imagination. While you have been busily examining the forcefield and describing all the things it is not, you’ve neglected to mention what it is," he said sounding both bored and irritated by the questions.

“What it is, is a single force vector having both size and direction.”

“Yes and?”

“And what? It’s obvious that the field surrounding us is electrical since it is binding us in one place.”

“Yes and?”

Geordi huffed. “I don’t need a lecture in physics,” he said shortly.

“But you do apparently need to learn how electricity works,” Avon said archly.

“Protons, Neutrons, Electrons, circulating one another, blah blah blah,” Geordi snapped back.

“Precisely.” Avon agreed.

Geordi turned to Picard in frustration. “Is it just me or…”

Data took pity on his friend. “Geordi, I am not simply breaking the Bobbi pins into small particles, I am crushing them, forcing them together and therefore they are becoming denser…”

Geordi looked at his friend, a small smile beginning to curve on his lips. “Oh I see,” he said with a grin.

“Then would you mind letting the rests of us in on this obviously fantastic secret?” Donna said with a sigh. “They were my Bobbi pins after all… I'd like to know that I look a fright for something worthwhile afterall.”

Servalan had been left alone in her bare room after refusing to answer any further questions if she couldn’t speak to the Dalek leader personally “As one leader to another, I’m sure you understand,” she’d confided.

The Dalek craft had left Sarran’s surface a short while later, lifting off vertically, with no thought to or of the effects such a steep rise in inertia or gravity would have on a human. As the Dalek guarding her remained steadfast in its position beside her doorway, Servalan fell to the floor in a heap, only able to move once the saucer had left the planet’s upper atmosphere, and the gravity generators had kicked in.

With nothing to see, no one to talk to, and nothing to do, Servalan had given up pacing and the pretence of looking ‘ready’ to sit on the cold floor and contemplate the best way forward. She was deep in the ruminations of finding a way of contacting the Federation, or the _Liberator,_ of handing over Avon, or teaming up with him, at least ‘temporarily’ when a Dalek had appeared in her doorway. 

“You will come with me.”

From her position on the floor, Servalan looked up at the Dalek. “Why?”

“You will obey me.”

“Only if you tell me where you intend to take me.”

“Dalek’s do not take orders from humans.”

“Then kill me now. I’m not moving until you tell me where we are going.” Servalan said firmly.

The Dalek’s blue eye swivelled to look Servalan up and down, while it’s gun arm twitched.

Servalan threw her arms wide. “Is that supposed to be intimidating?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

“Dalek Caan wishes to continue your interrogation personally.”

“Does he now,” Servalan smiled.

“You will come with me. Move…”

“Aren’t you going to help me up?”

Servalan smiled as she walked beside the Dalek. “I thought you would see it my way eventually,” she practically purred, ignoring the Daleks walking immediately behind and in front of her as well.

Dayna groaned as she slowly came too, coughing out the last of the gas from her lungs. “That was fierce… what was that…” she tried, her voice no more than a whisper as she opened her eyes, then squeezed them shut again as a blinding pain exploded in her head.

“You’ll find your eyes are going to be a little sensitive to light at the moment.”

The sound of Riker’s voice brought memories flashing back, even while hearing it was reassuring. Dayna attempted to open her eyes once more, then moved to shield her eyes with a hand; the move brought fresh pain.

“Oh and try not to move so much,” Riker's voice suggested sounding grimly amused.

“Why are you sounding so cheerful.”

“I’m not, just being quietly ironic.”

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know precisely.”

“Why not?”

“Well if you opened your eyes you’d know why…”

“Funny man.”

“All right then I’ll tell you. I presume we’re on the Dalek mothership. I think I can feel the vibrations of engines through the floor…”

Dayna pressed her hands to the cool flat surface beneath her. “I can’t.”

“When you’ve been in space, after a while, it’s a sense that you have. “ Riker explained.

“Meaning I won’t have it.”

“Probably not.”

“So your presumption is based on a feeling?”

“It is.”

“What about our surroundings?”

“There is none.”

“None?” And now Dayna needed to open her eyes. Wincing in pain she squinted into the darkness around her. Her vision was blurred. She could make out the sight of Riker sitting beside her in the same pool of light she seemed to share, but outside of that, there was nothing – just an inky blackness that seemed to go on forever whichever way she looked. “Where are we? Are we dead?”

Rikers smile was blurred. “I think not. If you can hurt you can feel things, and I don’t think you can when you’re not around anymore…”

“Dead you mean?”

“Yes…”

“But this nothing…?”

“Is obviously some kind of semi-permeable forcefield of some kind, lets oxygen and light in, obviously, but only in one direction. Or we could be in some kind of holodeck…”

“A what?”

“A technological playing space where what you imagine can become real,” Riker suggested.

“I can’t see those things wanting to play games…”

“Not with each other at least,” Riker suggested before he stopped and checked himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… I should keep my big mouth shut sometimes…”

Dayna sighed. "Well at least breathing doesn't hurt."

The Doctor climbed out from behind one of the crates in the storeroom.

He’d managed to successfully hide from the Federation guards, keeping a couple of crates or barrels between them at all times, treading carefully, if painfully, and as quietly as he could, leaving the brilliance of the light spilling through the broken ceiling to take refuge in the shadows.

A couple of times he’d needed to throw a rock or piece of plaster away from him as a form of distraction if the guards were getting too close, but now he was only a couple of metres away from the doorway. Which he needed to go through.

The only trouble was that there were no crates or barrels now between him and the exit. The only way out was through that door, so the Doctor knew that the only thing he could do was make a run for it. 

And then his luck run out as he felt a gun on the middle of his back.

“You, hands up. What are you doing here?”

The Doctor put his hands up slowly and attempted to turn round. “Awww, now I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” he suggested.

“No moving. Stand still.”

“How can I tell you who I am if I can’t see you?” the Doctor offered.

“You’ve got a tongue in your head, haven’t you? You’re speaking now in fact.”

“Yesssss, I am,” The Doctor admitted slowly, forcing himself to remain calm and breathe slowly. “But I’d not be able to show you my credentials then would I?”

“Credentials?”

The Doctor turned to face the two guards despite being told not to. “I have them here, in this pocket,” he said pointing.

“Easy now, no tricks…”

“Oh, believe me, I wouldn’t dream of it,” The Doctor suggested, reaching for his physic paper, and opening the wallet to show the guards.

“Special Psychostrategist to President Sleer, the Supreme Commander,” the first Federation Guard read out loud paling immediately and offering the Doctor a salute. “I… I’m sorry sir, we had no knowledge of your arrival…”

The Doctor showed his wallet to the second guard who lowered his gun immediately.

“Please forgive us, sir. If we had known…”

The Doctor was still digesting his apparent title. “Then it would hardly have been a fair test would it,” he suggested looking around him and then gesturing to the heap of rubble and mess he’d caused.

“Get this… er mess cleaned up would you and er… take me to your… Commander…”

“At once sir,” the Federation Guards said in unison, snapping to attention.

“No one could have predicted that we’d have been attacked sir,” the first guard offered.

The Doctor looked at him. “Could we not?” he asked, playing his part and limping towards the door, hoping against hope that the guards would open it for him.

“And I’m telling you it’s not right, you’ll not do it. I won’t let you,” Vila said firmly, standing his ground.

“But think of the good we could do with a ship like this?” Avalon tried, smiling at Vila, trying very hard not to show her temper.

“It’s not our ship. It’s the Doctors. I’ll not help you steal it from him.” Vila hissed angrily.

Avalon, Deva, and Jenna had pulled Vila to one side, away from Deanna, while Blake was looking in on the wounded. Everyone had noticed how well the Tardis responded to Vila, he seemed to have an intuitive way of finding his way around the ship. The children also liked and got on well with the lock-pick too. Therefore Avalon and her people had decided Vila was crucial to their plans to take over the Tardis.

“I’m with Vila,” Indigo said hotly. “This is not your ship. The Doctor rescued you, you’ll not leave him stranded.”

“We can come back for him,” Jenna said slowly.

“No, we’re not doing it,” Vila said firmly, turning his back to walk away.

Deva caught hold of his arm.

“Let me go.”

“Vila.”

“You have to help us.”

“I do not. I owe you nothing. I won’t, do you hear me.”

“If you’re not with us…”

“Then what…. The Doctor left me in charge with Deanna. I won’t abandon him. He rescued me, and I… we’ll do the same for him. He’s safe, I know he is if he wasn’t… didn’t he say his ship would take us somewhere safe? Well if that happens, then maybe…. But until then, no.”

“Just so we’re all clear?” Beverly confirmed waiting until the heads around the table nodded back at her. “Three hours, no more, then we will reconvene, get everyone onto it, the best people in your departments. No idea too small or outlandish.”

“Yes, sir,”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good.”

Standing Beverly walked out of the Conference room behind the main bridge and down the slope to the captain's chair. She didn’t sit down, however, but looked around her, trying to project quiet confidence. “Lt Marksham report.”

“The Daleks have been largely quiet sir. A few ships have come up from the planet’s surface, but it appears to be routine. They have not continued with their threat against us.”

“Good. Helm, when I say, I want you to move us out of orbit and put us into a higher geostationary orbit above the planet’s surface, match speed and velocity to the Dalek ship, I want you to put the planet between us and them at all times.

Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tactical on my mark, I want you to launch a full array of mark 7 gravimetric probes towards the anomaly. Take them to within 1/3 a light-year.”

“All the probes Captain.

“Yes, Ensign you heard me. A full array of 26.” Beverly said firmly.

“Aye, sir.”

“At the same time, you are to launch 12 photon torpedoes to match our orbit and distance to the Dalek ship. The second we move away from this spot, I want you to detonate them.”

“Yes sir, that’ll screw with their sensors all right!”

“Ensign, when I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But let’s hope you’re right.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe, with everything going on in the world. Thank you all for continuing to read this story xx

Having admonished the Ensign, Beverly had a change of heart, the crew about her were only young. It was a stressful time for them all, with so many of the Command Crew missing. Stepping forward she squeezed the Ensign briefly on one shoulder and offered a slight smile when he turned. “Right then,” she started to say. “On my mark …what?”

Before Crusher had a chance to finish the sentence however the red alert sirens started to sound  _ whoop, whoop, whoop l _ oudly throughout the bridge cutting her off, as the red accent panels started to flash once more.

Turning to Marksham she shot him a look. “Lieutenant, I thought I told you to…”

“Sir… we’re being boarded.” Lt Barnaby said quickly moving to his new station, running his hands across the controls.

“Why aren’t our shields still up?”

“They are Captain,” Lt Solis said sliding into Opps, and replacing the Ensign.

Lt Chang went to stand beside Barnaby, offering a second pair of hands, calling up additional data. “Sir, it’s a single intruder. Deck 36 aft corridor, just outside main engineering.”

Lt Barnaby shot the new EO a look of gratitude and continued. “Sending a security team down there now. They are attempting to cut through the main doors.”

“We can not allow that. How are they continuing to get through our shields?” Beverly said frustrated.

Lt Barclay on his way across the bridge to Engineering himself had stopped at the Engineering Ops, where he immediately started to call up statistics and various programmes he’d been working on before being called to the Bridge.

“Doctor, I mean Sir, Captain,” he stumbled. “I’ve been thinking about that… the ‘being able to go through our shields’ bit I mean… and so I wondered if we could treat them like we did… you know like with the Borg?. Modulate our shield harmonics? I mean Data was able to do it very fast, so he was able to beat them at their own game… but I believe we could write a simple programme which would… have the same effect?” he stammered.

Crusher looked at Chang who nodded.

“Very good Reg, let’s try that,” Crusher said offering the diagnostic engineer a slight smile.

“Really?”

“Yes Lt Barclay, get to it.” Crusher said making a shooing motion with her hands.

Barclay turned back to his station.

“Sir, another intruder is attempting to beam into Deck 4 – inside our Main Shuttlebay.” Chang called out.

“Sending a security detail to intercept.” Barnaby offered.

“Reg, I don’t mean to hurry you…”

“I’m onto it… right away… any minute now…”

“A minute might be longer than any of us have.”

“Sir, the security team in Main Engineering are reporting that a standard phaser has little effect on the intruder…” Barnaby said, sounding worried for the first time. “I…I’m getting reports that there is now a third intruder in…”

“In the main turbolift just off the bridge,” Chang finished.

“Computer, this is Acting Captain Crusher Alpha Delta 72, initiate a priority 4 forcefield around the bridge,” Beverly said immediately, turning to look at the turbo lift door in horror as is started to glow dull red in the centre.

“Doctor, you need to order a 5% shield modulation in the harmonic level 5-700 MHz,” Barclay corrected.

Drawing a deep breath and rolling her eyes, Beverly made the correction, as she watched the door start to glow a bright red. Then she had a thought and chided herself for not thinking of it sooner if it would help. “Computer this is Acting Captain Crusher Alpha Delta 72, also initiate a priority 4 forcefield around Main Engineering with a 5% shield modulation in the harmonic level 5-700 MHz, and do the same outside Shuttlebay 4,” she instructed. “Reg please tell me this is going to work.”

“I… it will… at least I mean, it should do,” Reg agreed.

“Sir, the security team in Main Engineering have tried to oscillate the settings on their phasers too, with limited success… Team two reports that they are attempting to gain remote access to the Galileo shuttlecraft. The Galileo is a type 6 shuttlecraft, fitted with a T4 phaser array...” Barnaby reported once more.

“That could take out half the ship.” Crusher said shocked.

“Shall I tell them to stand down?” Lt Barnaby asked pausing in his correlation of results at tactical.

Crusher looked at Chang, who faintly shook her head, backing up Beverly’s own feelings. “No, sometimes you have to cauterise the wound to save the patient… in this case the ship,” Crusher said, rubbing her hands together anxiously, hoping no one would notice.

“Doctor, I… I believe the field harmonics are holding…” Reg said from his position at Engineering Ops. “At least… I think they are…”

Crusher looked at Chang. “Any further intruders detected,” she asked trying to sound confident.

“No, sir…”

The doors to the turbolift started to glow bright white.

“Sir,” Lt Solis called from Ops. “I’ve been running an internal scan on our intruders. They are a previously unknown life form. They do however match the image we saw on the viewscreen that self-identified as a Dalek. Further, I believe Lt Barclay’s reference to a Borg is partially correct term to describe them, in as much as there appears to be a living creature inside the metal casing. Preliminary data indicates that they view the world through the blue-lit eyestalk on the top of the dome, their weapon system appears to be on the stick side of their two forward appendages.”

“So if they are alive they can be killed, and if they need a device to see, then perhaps we can obscure their vision,” Beverly said thoughtfully. “Good work Lt, see what else you can come up with.  Lt Barnaby…”

“Already onto it captain, relaying that information to all security teams now. They’re to aim for their eyestalk and other appendages.”

Barclay moved over from Engineering Ops to Tactical. “Sir, Lieutenant, I don’t mean to disturb you or anything, but I have something to add.  There is something which Geordi, Worf and I have been working on…. In our spare time…. Based on how easily the Borg could defeat us… It’s an adaption to the type 3 laser rifle… so this would be a 3a I guess… Anyway, our rifle has a durable twin power cell and a split emitter resonator for tuning and focusing the phaser beam. That… that could be useful if you want to… hit more than one point at a time.”

“Send me the specs,” Chang directed.

“An excellent idea.” Barnaby agreed. “How many are there?”

Reg blinked. “Well, there’s only one…. And it’s in my lab… on deck 27…”

Their come an explosion from the turbolift doors as they disintegrated around the Dalek which was now plainly visible. “Exterminate…. Exterminate… All humans will be exterminated…” it cried trying to move forward, only to bounce off the forcefield surrounding the bridge.

Undeterred the Dalek started to fire its weapon once more, this time directly at the forcefield, which started produced a shower of sparks on contact.

But which held, for now at least. 

“Sir, we were not expecting you,” the ranking Federation Officer-In-Charge of the mutoid factory said giving the Doctor a salute as he was walked through the door of the Command Centre, urged forward by the two Federation Guards who had found him. The Command Centre was a medium-sized room, filled with lots of desks, chairs, filing cabinets and several large active electronic status screens. 

There were not that many people about thankfully, and those that there were, carefully avoided looking at the guards and the Doctor, continuing to bustle around, collecting storage discs, files, and other paperwork, packing them away in large airtight boxes.

It had taken nearly ten minutes to get from the Storage Room to the Command Centre, the Doctor walking as casually as possible in line with the two Guards, asking them seemingly random questions, which they had answered politely enough, but left the Doctor feeling that he wasn’t quite above suspicion yet.

He had yet to find or see any exit or a way back up to the ground floor, but that hadn’t bothered him as nearly as much as what he could only describe as swarms of Federation personal walking quickly in nearly every direction possible, usually under armed guard.

“Hmmm, you’re quite busy down here it seems…” he commented to no one in particular, memorising as much as the layout as possible.

As the Officer-in-Charge’s stood and snapped off a smart salute, the Doctor brought his attention to bear on the man, taking in his youth, rumpled clothing, and the harassed air about him.

“Aww, there’s no need to bother with that saluting business,” the Doctor taking one of his hands from his coat pockets, and scratching the back of his head, contriving to look a touch embarrassed as he deliberately didn’t return the salute.

“Sir,” the Captain said saluting once more.

“No, no, there’s really no need. See, it doesn’t go with the whole incognito approach,” the Doctor tried to explain. “And as to that, how did you know I was on site?”

Looking a touch abashed one of the Federation Guards pointed to the two-way radio he was wearing. “I called your arrival in sir,” the guard admitted.

The Doctor pretended to wince. “Now while I can understand why you felt the need to do that, Trooper…” here the Doctor paused and walked up to the unfortunate man and making a show of peering at the man’s id badge, “… Hale, Trooper Hale. Now then, if I were here say, to carry out an inspection on the top-secret aspect of this facility, you may have just tipped off one the Officers I was here to investigate… don’t you think hmmm?”

Captain Thomas began to bristle immediately. “Now you see here…” he started to say. 

Looking stern the Doctor took out his psychic paper once again and flicked it towards the Captain, who straightened instantly and snapped off another salute. “I’m sorry sir, I hope you can understand our caution,” he apologised, waving the two guards away and out of the room.

The Doctor put his psychic paper back. “Yes, of course, one can never be too careful,” he agreed. “But don’t let me keep you. Just carry on as if I weren’t here. Although I must say, you don’t seem too disturbed by the invaders above us?”

“We’re in the middle of a full-scale evacuation, Sir. With Colonel Bertian among the first casualties, we can’t take the chance that the experimental drug we’ve been developing of falling into the wrong hands.”

“No of course not,” The Doctor quickly agreed. “Er… which one of the experimental drugs have you been asked to develop, there are so many it can get a touch confusing sometimes.”

“Yes sir, of course, sir, I quite understand,” Thomas said, searching through the paperwork on his desk and handing a less than tidy clipboard to the Doctor. “These are our preliminary findings. We were using the most uncooperative and headstrong of the subjects to test Pylene 48.7. I think you’ll find the results encouraging?”

The Doctor quickly flipped through the reports, graphs and tweaks of recipe’s which meticulously noted the dosage, side effects and time of death of most of the subjects in the trial to date. The Doctors expression grew grimmer moment by moment as he understood the ramifications of  _ this _ Federations large scale pacification programme if only the drug would stop killing its subjects within the first 36 hours.

“Yes, well thanks for this. Most helpful.  You are aware that most of your wheat has been tainted by a type of fungus I presume, not that I’m telling you how to do your job of course? However, you may find that Aspergillus flavus is a tricky devil to contain once you have it… and from what I’ve seen…”

Captain Thomas paled. “Tainted wheat? Not possible, what nonsense is this?” he tried to bluster.

“Call your men back in and ask them where they interrupted me,” the Doctor challenged.

“You were found in Storage facility 3.”

“Hmmm, which houses tanks 7 through to 9 if I’m not mistaken. The was a blockage I believe, which the troupers were sent to report on,” The Doctor continued, walking behind the Captain, to his side of the desk, then turning his back on it to give the status board the most casual of glances. “Hmmm, not so good,” the Doctor offered.

“What?” Thomas said looking at the screen.

The Doctor slapped the desk, scatting a few of the papers around, causing the Captain to jump and look at his desk once more. “How are you supposed to find anything in this mess?”

“I er…” Flustered,  the Captain gave the Doctor a nervous glance, and in doing so, failed to see the Doctor point his sonic at the screen to scramble the electronics it contained. “No problem sir, I can get things tidy in a flash.”

“Good, because once you’ve done that…. If I’m not too much mistaken…. That grain with the fungus is feeding through into your main storage facility now. 

Didn’t you say it was getting ready for shipping….”

The first clue that Servalan had that she might not be in as much danger as she had initially thought, had come when she was led towards a normal looking door in an otherwise unremarkable corridor. 

“You will go inside,” she had been instructed.

“What for?”

“You will obey.”

“Will I now?” Servalan said firmly, determined to stand her ground.

“This area is designated for human use. You will go inside,” her escort stated implacably, while one of the Daleks behind her prodded her in the back just to get the point across.

Servalan pretended to wince, though the nudge had been fairly light.

“You have 100 rels.”

“Move.”

Having been left with little choice, Servalan had stepped bravely up to the door and pushed on the handle, determined to behave with dignity, if nothing else.  Her mouth practically hung open when she realised what she was looking at.  Controlling herself rigidly Servalan forced herself to relax and draw a breath. She was now standing inside a very small dressing room, with what looked like a shower in one corner and a fresh change of clothing laid out on a bench.

A cat-like smile curved at the corners of her lips as she softly shut the door behind her.

Servalan was standing at the mirror, putting the finishing touches to her outfit, when her Dalek escort unceremoniously opened the door on her ten minutes later.

“Don’t you know it’s polite to knock,” she chided lightly.

“You will come with us.”

Another long walk down several corridors followed before she was finally shown into was nearly ten times as big as her cell had been. Where her cell had been a simple cube with no doors or windows, this room had a high vaulted curved ceiling, braced by almost ornate curving bronze struts. The floor was a smooth black, while the walls and ceiling curved upwards in between the struts and appeared to be made of living opals, the colours, symbols and unreadable graphics mixed in incomprehensible, ever-changing, mesmerising swirls. 

The back wall was lined with glowing panels depicting charts, graphs, graphics and other information which Servalan could only guess at.

Several Daleks were present, each clearly deferring to the unremarkable-looking bronze Dalek in the centre of the room who was clearly in control and coordinating the others around it.

“I obey,” a Dalek agreed having received fresh instructions. Swivelling its body, but not it’s head in a move which Servalan found slightly creepy, the Dalek took its leave from its leader and moved off elsewhere.

Servalan’s Dalek escort stopped a respectful distance away, the Dalek in the lead, extending the reach of its sucker arm to prevent the Supreme Commander from moving forward.

“You will wait,” it told her.

Servalan allowed her gaze to travel slowly around the room, before resting back on the Dalek lightly restraining her. “For how long. I am not accustomed to being treated like this.”

“Daleks do not take orders from humans,” her escort told her firmly.

“Oh you mistake me, it wasn’t an order. It was merely a comment, to pass the time if you will. I like what you’ve done with the place, stylishly minimalistic. ”

Several more Daleks took instructions from the central Dalek, each one promising to obey before they moved off to complete their fresh task until at last the central Dalek deemed to notice Servalan. Turning its head in sync with its body it approached her slowly, the central blue eye stalk constantly moving. Servalan’s escort pulled back almost hesitantly.

“I am Dalek Caan. You are the Supreme Commander and President of the Terran Federation Servalan,” Caan said, looking Servalan up and down slowly.

Servalan inclined her head fractionally, before she took a deliberate step forward, ignoring the continued restraining arm of her escort. “Very pleased to meet you I’m sure,” she agreed. 

“Although I prefer to use the name Sleer now, my other name had some rather, shall we say, unfortunate connotations associated with it.”

“SL….EEE…RR,” Caan confirmed.

“Thank you,” Servalan said with a charming smile. “Is it you I should thank for my clean clothes too? So, how may I, as Supreme Commander and President of the Terran Federation, be of assistance?”

“You are not from the same Universe as the Doctor,” Caan said slowly.

Servalan frowned. “Is that the fourth or even fifth time I have heard that name now. I have no idea who this doctor is, but as I have explained to one of your underlings, if you require medical assistance, then I’m sure we can reach some mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“We are not in need of medical assistance, from Humans. The Doctor is an enemy of the Daleks, he will be EXTERMINATED.” Caan said firmly.

Servalan frowned. “Then I’m not sure how I can assist you; I have no knowledge of this person. However, if you return me to my people I can promise you will be suitably rewarded.”

“Daleks do not need bribery.”

“Then what is it you do want?”

“You are the Supreme Controller of the Humans in this Universe,” Caan stated.

Servalan pretended to brush a piece of none existent lint from her fresh white form-fitting dress. “If you say so,” she agreed. “I couldn’t possibly comment, modesty forbids such, as I’m sure you understand?”

“Daleks reign Supreme.” Caan continued. “Yet not in this Universe. You will assist the Daleks. As the supreme controller of the humans in this universe.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“You will watch,” Caan turned his eyestalk to one side. “Display real-time image,” he instructed one of his subordinates who had been hovering off to one side.

“I obey.”

The large screen on the back wall immediately went black, then flickered back to life showing a starfield in the background with the picture of a large saucer-shaped ship, with a pair of nacelles housing warp drive behind connected to a large tubular-shaped body by giant struts. 

Servalan’s eyes grew large as she took in the depth and breadth of the _USS Enterprise_. She had never seen a ship so large or graceful before. She dwarfed the _Liberator_ many times over.

Servalan’s eyes shone with greed as she quickly realised this must be the ship Will Riker had come from. 

“Human heartbeat and blood pressure elevated,” one of the Dalek’s escorting Servalan noted.

“I want her,” she said softly, almost beneath her breath.

“As the Supreme Controller of this Universe, you must be obeyed. The humans aboard this ship must be made to obey the Daleks. The humans aboard this ship are associating with a verified companion of the Doctor. You will speak to the Humans on our behalf,” Caan said firmly. “We want the location of the Doctor.”

“Not that I mind helping you of course, but I am curious, why can’t you simply er… extract that information yourself?”

In reply, the picture of the Enterprise changed to that of the large cell where Picard, Data, Geordi, Avon and Donna were being held. Servalan’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Avon, a fact which was once more commented on.

The view changed a moment later with the camera coming to focus in on Picard, and then on a digital scan of his head, peeling away layers of his skull and face to reveal the bone, tissue and blood vessels and brain beneath.

Servalan watched fascinated as several pieces of unfamiliar hardware became apparent, from the repairs carried out during the Borg attack when he had been restyled as Locutus of Borg.

“Human, male, has had additional technology incompatible with Dalek interrogation progress,” Caan said firmly.

“What you’re saying is that he’ll die?” Servalan questioned. “How is that incompatible with your interrogation techniques?”

“He will die before we can extract the information that is required,” Caan replied.

“Ah yes, I can see your difficulty there. “What about the other two males? Surely you have several more choices?”

Geordie’s face appeared on-screen next, and the same unnerving process of stripping away layers of skin and tissue was carried out.

“Human, male, ocular transplant technology incompatible with Dalek interrogation progress,” Caan stated once more.

“And the other one?”

“Android, interrogation processes would corrupt data retrieval.”

“Avon, of course, would not know anything,” Servalan said, deciding it was useless to prevaricate when it came to the Rebel. “Which leaves the female. Your doctor’s companion. Why is she unable to assist you?”

“Her DNA has been too tainted by interdimensional travel with the doctor.”

“My, my, you are in a bit of a fix then aren’t you?” Servalan said, her voice taking in a partial purr of satisfaction.

Another image appeared. This one showing Dayna and Riker in their own holding cell.

“Oh yes, those two I know. You can kill the girl, she’s useless, but him, maybe I can work with,” Servalan agreed.

“The human male has not been tainted by the Doctor’s companion,” Caan pointed out.

“That may be the case, but he is subordinate to the older of the human males, maybe I can work on him to exert some influence?”

“Don’t you ever stop eating?” Lt Towson asked Lt Portman as he entered the Liberators kitchen, crossing the room to lean on the countertop next to the cooker, watching as the other man continued to scramble a panful of real eggs.

“I’m a growing lad, at least that’s what Chang keeps telling me.”

“I don’t know how she puts up with you; with the size of you’re belly you certainly need to train more.”

Towson looked down at his now clean uniform; all Starfleet uniforms hugged the figure, his was no exception, his stomach as flat as a washboard. He laughed good-naturedly. “Yeah, she keeps telling me that too. But look, they have real eggs, not from a replicator. When was the last time you had real eggs?”

“Last shore leave. Brook and I went camping on Altaire seven.”

“Lucky you, I hear there’s a long waiting list.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“Is that eggs I smell?” Lt D’Son asked sauntering into the kitchen, his hair still damp from the quick shower he’d just taken, his uniform also laundered and clean.

“Didn’t I tell you, nose like a bloodhound?” Portman laughed.

“A what?” D’Son said frowning, guessing he was being teased.

“A bloodhound, you know a type of dog, a canine that goes woof, native to Earth?”

“Oh like the Hound of the Baskervilles?” D’Son asked his expression clearing.

“Now you’ve started something,” Portman complained. “Not Sherlock Holmes again, please, spare us.”

D’Son grinned. “You know me. Lt Commander Data was right, they’re fascinating stories.”

“Yeah we know,” Portman said punching his friend playfully on the top of his arm. “Anyway the Hound of the Baskervilles was a Bloodhound/Mastiff cross…”

“Please don’t encourage him… how do you even know this stuff anyway,” Towson complained.

A sudden noise made the security team freeze instantly. Portman put his spatula down and took his pan off the heat.

The sound had come from the dining area in the other room. Using hand signals only, the three men fanned out and made for the two different exits from the kitchen, Towson and D’Son to the left, Portman to the right.

Silently they counted down to three and all entered the room simultaneously, brandishing a variety of knives and kitchen implements they’d picked up on the way.

The room was completely empty, save for two small Tribbles who had managed to knock over a plate they’d been balancing on whilst finishing off the few scraps of food which had been left on it.

“I think we can relax, it was only a couple of these little guys,” Towson said, sticking the knife he’d been holding in his belt, bending down to pick up the jet black Tribble who’d fallen onto the floor. It cooed back at him.

“I thought Mudd was meant to have put them back in his ship?” D’Son queried, picking up the second Tribble, which was a kind of mottled brown colour.

“Perhaps he forgot these two, do you think they could be hungry?”

“I’m sure we can find them something to nibble on, can’t we?”

“My eggs!” Portman groaned, making a dash back into the kitchen where he quickly put his pan back on the stove.

Still talking to their friendly Tribbles, D’Son and Towson slowly followed.

“If either of you wants to share in this stuff…”

“It’s not burnt is it?”

“I bet it is, that’s why he’s now offering it…”

“… then you’d better grab yourself a couple of plates and hand me some more eggs…” Portman said ignoring the jibes. “However if you’d rather not…?”

The two tribbles were put down on the island in the middle of the kitchen and a packet of crackers was offered to them hastily.

“Thought you’d never ask,” D’Son grinned, walking to the clear fronted cupboard to collect a couple more plates.

“You only had to say… where are the eggs?” Towson agreed.

“In that cold storage unit over there…” Portman nodded.

Opening the cupboard D’Son reached forward and stopped mid-motion as Cally’s voice sounded in his head.

Cally had watched Klegg making his grand gestures as he walked onto the Liberators flight deck and tried to intimidate first Tarrant and then Worf. 

She wasn’t scared of the man so she tuned out most of his blustering while she concentrated on sending word to the remainder of Worf’s security team that Klegg had escaped from his cabin. Cally had connected with D’Son before so she sought him out now, able to find his mental signature fairly easily. She sensed his amusement first before she dived in deeper. “Klegg has escaped and is on the flight deck,” she telepathed. “Watch out. I can see no others, but that doesn’t mean he’s not alone.”

“So you’re saying,” Picard said slowly, crouching down next to Data and Avon, “that you’re hoping that this dust will somehow confuse the forcefield? 

What are you hoping to do after that?”

“Captain, I am not just breaking the Bobbi pins into a dust, as you put it, I am crushing some of the larger particles together so their size to weight ratio is variable… Whilst Avon and I do not believe that we will be so lucky to take out the forcefield this time, we only plan to use a small fraction of the scatter we are creating.”

“To what end?”

“A forcefield like this one, rests upon the areas of the surface it touches,” Avon said, his lips barely moving. “Note, we have not been taken to a regular cell, therefore it is logical to suggest that there are no reciprocating sensors on the floor around us. 

The floor is simply the lowest object that the forcefield touches.”

“And how does that help us?

Geordi, still standing, touched the captain on one shoulder. “I can explain, at least I think so… but come away sir, so the Daleks don’t get overly suspicious…”

Picard looked up at his Chief Engineer. “Quite right,” he agreed. With a nod towards Data and Avon, he stood. 

As casually as possible Donna wandered over to join them.

“… so, the theory is this…. Some of the particles they are creating are going to be super dense and heavy….”

“They can’t be that heavy, I was wearing them on my head, and it didn’t drop off or anything,” Donna suggested with a smile.

“Quite,” Geordie said in all seriousness. “But that was before they were crushed down to be super small…”

“But wait, as the Doctor explained to me once, you can’t create matter out of thin air… so wouldn’t that mean, they can’t get any heavier… that their … you know what makes them, is still the same?”

“Their mass,” Picard agreed looking at La Forge. “What she said,” he continued.

“Yes, and you’d both be right…”

Donna beamed.

“… if not for the fact that as Data is an android, he has the ability to crush things into a far denser package than would be possible for a mere human.”

“Pounds per square inch,” suggested Picard.

“Exactly. Now, polycarbonate has many uses. But one of its main characteristics is its ability to retain a glass-like smooth service…”

“Like a mirror?” Donna asked.

“Yes, just like that. So when that stuff they’re creating hits the forcefield it’s going to do a couple of things. 

It’ll react to it, and is likely to bounce off, or rather slide off and fall to the floor…”

“But then that will still be on our side.”

“It will, but, that will likely bring the attention of our captors…”

“Who’ll lower the forcefield and…” Picard smiled.

“Exactly, Data or Avon, plan to push the particles in line with where the outside edge of the forcefield was. When it is switched back on again, the mirror-like surfaces should reflect the forcefield energy back up again…”

“And create a doorway,” Picard said in admiration.

Donna squealed in excitement.

Both Geordi and Picard shushed her.

“Sorry, sorry, so what can I do?”

“Well, to ensure that the forcefield goes back up where we want it too, we’re going to have to make sure that we’re spread out like we were before, and not clumped together like we are now.”

“Indeed. But in the meantime, perhaps we’d better start thinking of an escape plan. Where should we go when we get out of here?”

Avalon sat hunched over a plate of food she’d grabbed from the kitchen. It was strange, but she’d not noticed before that there were several sets of tables and chairs off to one side by the island, which sat in the middle of the kitchen. That didn’t stop her utilising one now, though she had to admit that the chairs were rather hard and bumpy, not something apparently designed with a human in mind.

On either side of her sat Deva and Fargus, then Jenna, a bandaged Docholli with his arm in a sling, and Blake. Blake and Deva were only picking their way through their food, while Fargus and Jenna were attacking it with gusto.

Avalon moodily stirred a chip through some kind of sauce. “I still say we need to take over this ship. It’s far too good an opportunity to miss. As soon as he gets back, we won’t get another chance.”

“Vila’s already said that he won’t help us,” Jenna pointed out, reaching for a glass containing some kind of fruit drink. There had been no alcohol to be found on the Tardis, but she didn’t mind juice in a pinch.

“Fine, then Vila won’t help us. We don’t need a lock pick to get us through the door, we’re already on the inside.”

“True enough,” Fargus agreed.

“What about the other one?” Deva asked.

Blake frowned. He liked what he had seen so far of Deanna. She had managed to figure out enough of the Tardis medical facilities to give him a once over in sickbay. She had been kind and efficient. “I won’t be part of anything that harms anyone. There has been too much of that already.”

“Casualties are a part of war Blake, you know that. Now is not the time to get squeamish.” Fargus said firmly.

“I’m not being squeamish, this just doesn’t seem right somehow. There’s a proper way of going about things, and this isn’t it.” Blake insisted.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let such a golden opportunity to pass us by. 

With this ship, we can fly straight to the heart of the Federation and take out Sleer once and for all, and all her generals and those that would follow her. Think of the billions of lives we would save.” Avalon said putting down her knife. point down and spearing the table they were sitting at with it.

“At what cost?” Blake argued, remembering the conversation he’d had with Avon just before Star One all too vividly. “We should have thought more… I should have thought more of the consequences before….”

“You’d take back Star One, rebuild it, put us back under their control…”

“The innocent lives that were lost.”

“The innocent lives which have been saved because of it.”

“Blake don’t go soft on me now.”

“He’s not going soft, he just likes to weigh up all the opinions, I’ve seen this before,” Jenna opinioned. “When it’s time to act, he’ll be with us.”

“Are you so sure?” Blake asked softly. “And what of the children in all of this, and our own injured?”

“The kids can be put down somewhere safe,” Deva argued.

“And where will that be?”

“Blake, I’m not sure I like your tone,” Avalon challenged.

“And I don’t think I like where this is heading. The Doctor has done nothing but rescue us. Do I need to remind you that he saved every single one of us? And it out there still because he didn’t want to risk our lives saving him, so what do we do in return, steal his ship and home from him.

“It’s for a good cause.”

Blake stood up. “I want no part of this.”

Fargus stood too, still holding the knife he’d been eating his food with.

“If you’re not with us,” he said softly.

Blake gave the man a hard look. “Oh don’t worry, I’ll keep your precious secret. When you find somewhere safe, you can drop me off too.” With that, he stalked away.

Fargus made to go after him, but Avalon held him back. “No, leave him. We need to work out what we’re going to now. Jenna are you with us, or do you feel the same as Blake?”

Jenna bit on the bottom of her lip. She like Blake, and was used to following his orders, and taking his side in most things, but now… “You’re going to need a pilot with Payton out of action,” she offered slowly.

Having seen Blake stride away from the table where what he now thought of in his mind as the unholy alliance sat, Vila walked over to Blake, trying to appear casual. “I’ve been thinking,” he said softly.

Blake looked at him, then looked away with a soft chuckle. “Have you now?”

“I have yes. If we’re not in our universe… which Federation is even out there…?” Vila said slowly. “I mean… even without Zen, Orac and Avon around… a flying space ship that can cross through different universes… impossible yes… I’d have said so, wagered against it even. But look around you… This ship is impossible… I’m good with directions… having grown up in delta back streets… but this ship… it… she… she does things…”

As if to prove Vila’s soft words, Blake could have sworn he felt the Tardis vibrate the very air around him softly.

“And the Doctor. We can’t leave him out there stranded. We can’t Blake, it’s not right.”

“I know,” Blake agreed.

“If not for us, then think of the…. Wait, what, you’re agreeing with me?”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Servalan tries to pull a fast one, the Tardis traps Avalon and The Doctor inspects a broom cupboard!

Servalan's eyes narrowed as she looked at the viewscreen image of Riker and Dayna sitting close together, Dayna smiling at something Riker had said to her. That would have to stop immediately. “My advice would be to send me in as your prisoner," she said dispassionately.  
“You are the prisoner of the Daleks,” Caan responded at once.  
Looking away from the screen, Servalan deliberately pouted at the Dalek and quite intentionally reached out to pat his sucker arm. It was the lightest of touches, but noticeable nonetheless.  
The Dalek's blue eye appeared to pulse as it looked at the human standing next to him. Caan did not, quite, move backwards.  
Servalan smiled. “Let’s not let a silly little detail like that, destroy any hope we may have of a mutually beneficial relationship,” she admonished. “If you do as I suggest, we will soon know everything there is to know about the whereabouts of your Doctor. That is if his assistant knows anything, of course.”  
“You have a plan?” Caan queried slowly, each word accentuated by its mechanical voice.  
“Of course. I always have a plan,” Servalan said confidently. “Now let me think. As gorgeous as this gown is, I’m afraid you will need to give me back those rags I was wearing before you …er rescued me. If I want the two of them to believe I’m your prisoner, I can’t look so glamorous, can I?”

Riker heard it first; the sound of a door swooshing open. A beam of light stabbed the darkness, seeming to come from an impossibly long way off. “It seems we’re about to have visitors,” he remarked getting to his feet then, offering Dayna his hand.  
“Just as I was getting bored. I do hope they’ve bought us something to eat, I’m starving,” Dayna said flippantly, taking Riker’s hand. She stood up in one lithe moment, stretching like a cat to work her muscles loose.  
Riker grinned. “Agreed. I’d settle for a Rokeg blood pie at the moment.”  
“A Rokeg what?" Blood pie? Doesn’t sound appetising, I must say,” Dayna said pulling a face, as she brushed herself down.  
“It’s not. Not unless you’re a Klingon,” Riker confirmed.   
“A Klingon? I don’t think I’ve heard of them either,” Dayna frowned.  
“If you have to think about it, then you haven’t," Riker said simply. "When we get back, I’ll introduce you to Lieutenant Worf. He's head of ships security. I'm sure the two of you will hit it off just fine. You both have a love of weapons, for one thing."  
"Really?" Dayna smiled, warmed by Riker's conviction that the two of them would somehow make it out of the Dalek ship alive. Squinting as the Daleks continued to approach, she drew a breath. “What do you think they want from us?”  
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not going to be the ingredients for a recipe,” Riker said seriously.  
Glancing back at the Daleks, Dayna nodded, her humour vanishing too. "I think there's two of them. They appear to have someone with them though," she offered, before turning pale. “Oh no...”  
“Oh no, what?” Riker asked, before drawing a deep breath. He could now see the human being propelled along by two Daleks was Sleer.  
Servalan had gone out of her way to make herself look dirty and battered once more. Wearing her tattered clothes, she’d gone out of her way to rub some of the dirt from the surface of the tunic and trousers back onto her face and had stuck her hair up in all directions. She’d drawn the line at asking the Daleks to hit her, a tiny bit worried that they might take it too far and like it too much, but she was walking with an exaggerated limp on her bad leg and holding one of her arms pathetically by her side, with the other.  
Servalan gave Riker a watery smile as she drew close with her captors.  
“Deactivate the forcefield.” The Dalek-in-charge seemingly ordered thin air.  
“I obey. Forcefield deactivated,” the second Dalek confirmed.  
With a slight pop and blue-green shimmer in the air, the forcefield around Riker and Dayna dissipated.   
Servalan was shoved forward towards them and appeared to stumble. “Will, oh thank goodness, I was so sure I could get away and get help… I tried, but... but I’m too trusting by far it seems. When a couple of the natives, such lovely people, offered to shelter me, I took them at their word. I was so grateful, as you can imagine,” Servalan said rushing into Riker's arms, brushing Dayna away. Dayna was immediately on her guard. “Where are my family? My father and Ilesha, you were supposed to protect them… You promised, you gave us your word you would.” she demanded.  
Servalan clutched at Riker and sobbed into his chest. “I… I did everything I could… you must believe me,” she said between tears.  
Riker put an arm about Servalan rather awkwardly having been left with little choice. “I’m sure it can’t be as bad as all that,” he offered.  
“As bad as all that?” Dayna was beside herself with horror and rage. “You’ve got some explaining to do,” she told Servalan harshly. "I'm not interested in your tears. I want to know what happened to my father and sister."  
“Please, I tried, I really did... I did everything I could...” Servalan insisted, holding onto Riker, looking up at him with large dark, tear rimmed eyes, ignoring Dayna altogether.  
Drawing close Dayna grabbed the Supreme Commander by an arm, her fingers biting into flesh. “Somehow I doubt that. Tell me what happened,” she demanded.  
Servalan sobbed into Riker's chest. “I waited… we waited for ages, for you to come back… and when you didn’t… I went looking for you. Mellanby and the chit... ... I mean your father and poor sister… they were so cold and hungry… So I approached the natives, they had food you see. I thought they would help, they tried to, or so I thought… offered to shelter me… and then… then…” she said in between many catches of breath and sniffs.  
Dayna shared an angry look with Riker, not fooled by Servalan for one moment. "Surely you don't believe this cock n bull story?" she challenged. "It's ludicrous... to think that any of this happened."  
Riker offered Dayna a shrug. He didn’t necessarily believe Servalan any more than Dayna, but she was holding onto him with surprising force. He couldn't break free from her clutches.  
"I don't believe this," Dayna said stomping off. With her back to Riker and Servalan, deliberately going over what Sleer had said in her head Dayna frowned. Walking back to them a minute later, she deliberately put herself in front of the other woman, so she could not be ignored. "What you said. My father and sister were not with you then?” she asked directly.  
Under Dayna's hostile gaze, Servalan appeared to shrink away. “I was betrayed…they… their…. They handed me over to those… things… for extra rations…” she stammered.  
“Yes, you’ve said all of that before, but what about my family? Where are they?"  
Servalan smiled, deliberately making eye contact with Dayna, while she held on tighter to Riker. Both women were not that tall, so they while they were eye level, where Riker would have needed to need to bend his head to see the look of pure malice Servalan shot Dayna for a split second, before burying her face in Riker's chest and sobbing once more.  
Horrified Dayna took a step backwards. "We’ve got to get out of here,” she said, looking briefly up at Riker, before turning to rush headlong towards the perimeter of the forcefield.  
In her haste, Dayna hadn't noticed the Daleks had already re-established the forcefield, though they continued to stand and observe their prisoners.   
In her agitated state, the forcefield didn't even exist, not entering into her mind until she ran straight into it. The forcefield buzzed with energy at the contact, sending a 50,000-volt jolt of electricity through Dayna. Without a sound, the young woman immediately collapsed to the floor unconscious.  
Riker looked at Dayna in horror. “No! What did you have to do that for?” he said angrily, too stunned to move for the moment.   
"She was worried about her family, that’s all. There was no need for that.”  
"The female Hu-man is still alive." The first Dalek responded.  
“It is the job of Hu-man's to obey the Daleks,” one of the guards replied.  
Riker made a move towards Dayna, Servalan tried to hold on to him.  
“Please, don’t leave me,” she cried.  
Riker shot her a look. “We’re stuck inside an impenetrable forcefield, just as Dayna has amply demonstrated. I don’t think any of us are going anywhere soon do you? Come with me if you don’t want to stand there by yourself and help me with her. Let’s make sure she’s not too seriously injured.”  
Hiding her annoyance behind a bland smile, Servalan walked over to Dayna with Riker and watched as he crouched down to check for a pulse on the side of her neck.  
“She’s still alive,” he announced a moment later.  
With an inward sigh, Servalan made herself smile happily at the news.   
“Oh thank goodness, I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to the poor child as well,” she offered.  
Riker gave Servalan an odd look, before turning his attention back to Dayna, moving her body into a more comfortable position, feeling her forehead and face for any signs of temperature. “So what has really happened to her family?” he asked softly, reassured that Dayna felt normal to the touch; no sign of any fever.

“Will it work?” Deva asked Avalon, looking across the now vast expanse of the main floor of the Tardis, towards the central column. It continued to sit serenely as always in the centre of the elevated metal grill around it. There were two steps up to the core, both surrounded by a grating like metal floor.  
Avalon followed Deva's gaze, still assessing the possibilities and opportunities a ship like the Tardis could bring. “Well, the only way to know that is to go ahead and try.”  
“So, how do we go about this?” Fargus asked from her other side.  
"Yes, I'd like to know that too," Jenna agreed, one eye on the central column, the other on the children and Vila on the other side of the room sitting on their neat row of beds.  
Drawing a metaphysical deep breath Avalon stood up. "Jenna, come with me." Making sure her movements looked casual to the observer, Avalon, with Jenna in tow, slowly walked up the steps leading to the metal grid floor which surrounded the time rota. "The first thing we need to do is a feasibility study. Just because we want this ship, doesn't necessarily mean we can fly her."  
"I couldn't agree with you more." Jenna agreed.  
Cautiously Avalon reached out one hand and lightly touched the surround of the controls, noticing the rough organic feel of the texture. She paused, but when nothing happened she ran her light but inquisitive fingertips across the unfamiliar dials and switches of the Tardis control panels.  
There were no labels for the rebel to read, no instruction manual which she knew of, now familiar gauges showing power levels, navigation or flight control that she could discern. In fact, the only familiar item was a blank monitor screen on one of the sides of the column, along with an obvious keyboard arrangement situated just underneath it.   
“So what do you think we should do first? Jenna, you’re the pilot, what's your assessment?” she said still touching the controls.  
“Well, usually you… I would start by running through a pre-flight checklist," Jenna suggested, reaching out to touch the Tardis controls too, not trying to move anything, just caressing the surfaces she encountered, trying to get a feel of things. "Engine, power, navigation, shields, weapons, and some kind of controls which would allow me to move the ship in the direction I want to go. But I can’t see any of those controls here, not exactly. I could make a few guesses, but, that's all they'd be. Being completely truthful."  
“If guesses are all you’ve got, then we’ll go with those,” Avalon said firmly.  
“Well… we could try by wiggling a few of the switches and dials, and see what happens,” Jenna said dubiously, hesitant about doing anything else as she walked around the rota, feeling the weight of Vila's stare at her back.  
The two women were joined by Deva, who had no such reverence for the Tardis as Avalon and Jenna. “It would be good if we could find out how to retract the landing gear, or we won’t be going anywhere,” Deva he suggested.  
"Does a ship like this even have landing gear?" Avalon asked.  
Jenna shrugged. "Don't look at me, how would I know. If there is one, it could be anywhere, take your pick," she offered gesturing towards the six sides of the time rota.   
“What’s it likely to look like?”  
“Haven't the foggiest! This whole ship is totally alien, it could be something as small as that switch there, or a complicated lever arrangement, or anything in between.”  
Throwing caution to the wind, Deva reached out and twiddled a knob on the Tardis, or at least he tried to. No matter which way he tried to turn the knob, or press or pull it, it would not move so much as a millimetre. “It’s not moving,” he said, sounding slightly peevish as he stated the obvious.  
“Are you trying to turn it in the right direction?” Avalon enquired.  
“Left, right up or down it won’t budge.”  
“Nor will this one,” Jenna said trying to turn a switch in front of her.  
“I don’t know if they’re getting any power.”  
“A few of the lights are on.”  
“Yes, but the central column is not moving, didn’t it before?”  
“Should it?”  
“How on earth do I know. We could try asking Vila,”  
“He won’t help us.”  
“We could be persuasive,” Diva offered.  
“No, I won’t be a part of that,” Jenna said flatly.  
“So let’s try something else,” Avalon said sensibly, reaching for a simple rocker switch. “Ouch!”  
“What?”  
“I just got an electric shock from that switch there,” she said pointing.  
“This one… argh… I see what you mean…”  
“Blimey! And this one too.”  
Cautiously, Avalon, Deva and Jenna tried a few more switches, but each time they received a jolt of electricity.  
“I think they’re getting stronger,” Jenna said thoughtfully.  
Nursing still stinging fingers Avalon agreed. “Fargus, get up here, we want you to try something…” She called to the other rebel in their group willing to help.  
The rebel nodded, rising to his feet from his place at the table and crossing the area between the dining room and console. However, he found he could go no further. A forcefield shimmered into existence at the foot of the first gridded walkway leading up to the flight deck. Fargus bounced off it quite hard, to land on his backside a few feet away.   
A couple of the children who had been watching giggled.  
Avalon frowned. “We must have triggered a self-defence mechanism,” she said understanding immediately what had happened.  
“Yes, but which was it?” Jenna asked.  
“This one?” Deva said, trying to lightly touch the last switch he’d touched, before, not quite wanting to shock himself again. To his horror, his hand bounced off a forcefield too.   
Avalon, Deva and Jenna looked at each other. Avalon tried to touch the controls as well, though Jenna had a little more sense. “I’m leaving,” she stated firmly. “This ship is just too weird for me to attempt to pilot.” However, she got no further than the top of the stairs before she too hit a forcefield.  
“It appears we’re locked in,” Avalon said in disbelief.

Walking with his hands in his pockets, accompanied by the Captain, the Doctor tried his hardest not to whistle nonchalantly as he was shown around, at least to begin with. It turned out that Captain Thomas was indeed the highest-ranked person left alive in the building, the Borg and rebels in combination having made short work of the rest.  
The Doctor hadn’t seen the Mutoid factory before the Borg and rebels had set out systematically either completely blow it up, or else carve it up, taking the parts that they were interested in, and destroying the rest.   
The Mutoid factory’s official designation had been Telenor 1, after the original scientist who had first combined the mechanical and human parts of the mutoids, whilst being able to systematically rewrite their memory and programme them to obey the orders of their superiors. Telenor 1 had used up a vast supply of vagrants, deltas, captured rebels, other undesirables and their families, in the creation of mutoids and the blood serum, but not all of the bodies taken had been repurposed in that manner. Another large portion of the work carried out on Telenor was experimentation.  
Mutoids were strong, obedient and unquestioning, but they needed a constant supply of blood serum to function; some turning on their superiors if the need for blood became too acute, thus giving them the name of ‘vampires’.   
Creating a mutoid was also not that cost-efficient. What the Federation had wanted to do, was to find another form of overt control, somewhere between the drugged stupor in which they kept the vast majority of the population on many Federated worlds, and the mutoids with their unquestioning but rather simplistic world view and behaviour.   
With a mutoid there was no thought or reasoning behind their actions, they simply accepted their orders and carried them out.  
Enter the Pylene Pacification Programme, a series of mind control drugs, designed to make the population of any given planet obedient and suggestable, but not so drugged they couldn’t carry out simple commands. They wouldn’t need extensive modifications, nor would they have a constant need for blood serum, which would now be in a short supply after the destruction of Star One anyway. It hadn’t been Servalan’s plan to release the Pylene quite so swiftly into populated worlds, her scientists and advisers cautioning that they had not yet perfected it, but with the war against the aliens barely won, she had ordered its production to take precedence over everything else. Its production was given the highest priority, with the scientists ordered back to Earth where they could be better protected.  
“Right then, so this Pylene – number whatever – what’s it supposed to do then? Just you know, generally, in laymen’s terms… Think of me as you know… Mr average Joe,” the Doctor said, looking around him with interest, peering into every room or even broom closest they came to as he was being shown around.  
“Sir, really I couldn’t…. that’s a cleaning cupboard, sir… is it really necessary?”  
“Necessary, of course, it’s necessary. You’d be amazed at what you can tell about a place from the state of its brooms. Take this one for example,” the Doctor said pulling out an ordinary-looking broom with a stainless steel handle, but a worn away label.  
“Yes sir,” Captain Thomas said doubtfully.  
“When was it last changed?” The Doctor questioned, tipping it upside-down and sniffing the brushes then pulling face. " _Gah!"_  
“Changed sir?”  
“Yes, you know, swapped out, cleaned, reconditioned, disinfected… had any maintenance carried out on it?”  
“Sir, it’s just a broom sir,” the captain responded confused.  
“Just a broom. No broom is ever just a broom, where would we be without them?” The Doctor paused and looked at Thomas expectantly.  
“Er… no idea sir…”  
“Exactly,” the Doctor agreed after a beat. “There’s no telling where we would be without such a piece of vital equipment, all the mess, would just gather up everywhere wouldn’t it… and soon we’d be knee-deep in it…”  
Captain Thomas’ expression twitched, he tried to hold it, but it was obvious from the look in his eyes that he thought the Doctor was a little bit mad. “Sir… I… it’s just…”  
“It’s not just a broom,” the Doctor said slowly, his voice soft. “You have multiple surgical units above you, you’re producing experimental drugs all around you, both of which calls for sterile facilities, and yet somehow, someone, has let mould contaminate the wheat. A dirty broom, is a microcosm of this facility, don’t you think?”  
“I… I don’t know sir.”  
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, you’re going to have to do much better.”  
Captain Thomas flushed, but then rallied. “But… but, sir we’re evacuating, we’re under attack…”  
“We are,” The Doctor agreed, “But tell me, how are you going to look after the new facilities when you get there? You’re not, not with this level of incompetence. I think, under the circumstances, you better show me your evacuation plans, and tell me about this miracle drug.  
“The Pylene 48.7 sir? Don’t you know about it already? I mean….”  
“Think of me as a layman remember?” the Doctor said severely.  
“Yes, sir. Well in laymen’s terms it’s an adrenaline blocker, to slow everyone down sir, make them less interested in… well… life sir…”


	25. Chapter 25

The Doctor handed Thomas the broom. The Captain took it less than enthusiastically, and after a glance in the Doctors, direction rested it carefully back in the broom cupboard, closing the door quietly. “Now, if you’ll come this way, sir, I’ll take you to our conference room, and introduce you to the evacuation team. As you can imagine, everyone is rather busy, but I’m sure they’ll be able to spend a few moments showing you around,” he suggested.

Watching every move the Captain made the Doctor made a gesture of compliance. 

“Lead on,” he suggested.

“Yes sir, thank you.”

There was silence for a few minutes as they traversed several corridors before the Doctor reached out to scratch the back of his head. “To get back to the beta-blockers, which is essentially what this Pylene is… you are aware that they are usually only prescribed by an attending physician for certain conditions. To suggest dosing the whole planet… or an entire system with them is… is unethical, unprincipled, and morally wrong,” he said slowly.

“Yes sir,” the Captain agreed. “I’m aware that several psychostrategists have come out against the idea. But the counter-argument is that it will put pay to most forms of social disruption, looting, theft, robbery, murders, civil disobedience…”

“Yes, because the citizens will be drugged out of their mind.”

“Yes, but they’ll be peaceful sir. Requiring less oversight, and reduced occupation forces to contain a native population.  Surely that has to be better, doesn’t it?”

“For whom?” The Doctor pondered darkly.

At first, D’Son had been happy to hear from Cally, he liked her enormously, so the touch of her mind was welcome. He didn’t know if Cally was able to read his thoughts, but he sent back a welcome to her, amused that she would choose to contact him so intimately. 

His amusement vanished however as she gave him her message.

“Listen up,” D’Son said shaking his head a few seconds later. “I’ve just heard from…” he started to say, then changed his mind, n ot wanting to admit to hearing voices in his head and the ribbing that would come with it. While he usually didn’t mind being teased, this time he didn’t think he’d like that, Cally talking to his mind, was something special and he wanted to preserve that. “Er… something strange has just happened…” he finished instead.

“You’ve just decided you don’t like eggs?” Towson quipped, picking up the box of eggs from the cold storage, then pretending to drop and catch them, before handing them over to Portman.

Taking the box, Portman sighed. “Yeah, like you’ve never done that before. But hey, who am I to argue if you want bits of shell in your scramble.”

“You mean there wasn’t already?”

“Ha, ha, you’re so funny…”

“Guys, hold up, I’m being serious,” D’Son tried again, “I’ve just had a…”

A loud crash came from the dining room area.

Both Towson and Portman glanced at the tribble they’d rescued, but no, it was still there quaffing the grain it had been given.

“Don’t tell me there’s another one of them out there?” Portman said rolling his eyes as he took a fresh egg and broke it against the rim of the frying pan.  It sizzled as it slipped down the sides.

“Probably, I’ll go and rescue it too,” Towson suggested.

D’Son put a hand on his friend's arm in order to hold him back. “No, wait, that’s just what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’ve just heard from Cally.”

“Now I know you’ve lost it mate.”

“No, I’ve not said before, but she’s like Counsellor Troi, you know, a telepath. Anyway, she says that that psycho Klegg has escaped and is on the flight deck.”

Portman scoffed. “Well if that is true, and he has escaped, Lt Worf will make short work of him, no doubt about it, they won’t need our help.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t think he’s alone…”

“What?” Towson asked.

“Yes, that’s right, there were two other troupers blokes with him…” Portman agreed.

“And if they’re out too, and have rescued their mates… then there could be a few problems.”

“How the hell did they get loose?”

Another crash from the dining room sounded louder than before. Portman took his eggs off the heat and picked up the knife he’d had to hand before. D’Son and Towson followed suit, grabbing the mallet and ladle they’d had last time, advancing towards the door.

Keeping an eye on Klegg, Del Tarrant drew closer to Cally, inching step by step nearer while Klegg was talking to Mudd. Tarrant kept his movements slow, hardly noticeable at all, and definitely didn’t look in Cally’s direction, only risking talking to her when he thought he was close enough. “What we need is a distraction. I have an idea,” he whispered, barely moving his mouth.

Cally had been ignoring Tarrant as studiously as he had been ignoring her, her gaze anywhere but on the pilot. Indeed until he’d made his move she had been trying to get a sense of anyone else on the ship, where they were in relation to the bridge and if they were friend or foe. She continued to pretend not to notice Tarrant until she heard him draw a breath and gathered he was going to try and speak again _ . “I heard you,” _ she thought _ . “What is your idea?” _

Cally’s soft voice in his head caused Tarrant to smile. “I always wondered…” he whispered.

Cally shot him a look.  _ “Humans, why is it that they always think of that!”  _ she responded, her thoughts much louder than before, laced with mock gravity. 

Tarrant’s smile grew, then faded as the feeling changed. Cally now projected more urgency. _ “Besides, now is not the time _ . _ I’ve let D’Son know of our little problem.” _

“Hardly worth his effort I’d have thought, four of us and only one of him…”

_ “But he is armed.” _

“Pfft! That little thing?”

Unable to help herself Cally shot Tarrant a look at his rude dismissal of the paragun, but the second movement in so many minutes was enough to draw Kleggs attention away from Mudd.

“I saw that. Shut up, all of you. No talking. What do you think I am stupid?”

“Now you come to mention it?” Tarrant suggested grinning, unable to resist goading Klegg.

Tucking his tribble under his arm, Klegg backhanded Tarrant. The blow severe enough to snap Tarrant’s head around, while the rest of him remained immobile.  “I’m going to enjoy interrogating you in a little while,” Klegg threatened unwisely drawing closer.

“Yes, thugs like you do seem to find inflicting pain on others satisfying, why is that I wonder?” Tarrant queried with seeming innocence.

Klegg lifted his gun to ram it into Tarrant’s stomach. 

Cally put out her hand, stepping between them. “Please. It doesn’t need to be this way,” she implored.

Klegg went to hit Cally too, only to find his way blocked by Worf, who squarely put his chest in front of the barrel of the gun. 

Worf growled. “Only a coward fights an unarmed man with a weapon,” he said preparing to make a move.

Sensing danger, realising that he was losing control of the situation, Klegg took a couple of steps backwards, waving his gun in front of him. “That enough, from all of you. I will not be played like this. And I will not leave until I have what I came here for.”

“And what is that, brain? If that’s the case, then I’m afraid it’s never going to happen?” Tarrant suggested.

And now Klegg did ram his gun into Tarrant’s midsection, grinning as the young pilot doubled over with an explosion of air and a groan. “Enough! You go and stand over there, where I can keep an eye on you. You, ugly, over there.  You in that corner your ladyship I’m sure, and you…” he said to Mudd. “You in the middle… not there… I want to be able to keep you all in my sights at the same time. I don’t trust the lot of you...”

“ _ QI'yaH _ ! You truly have no honour. Your speech is no more than the mewling of infants!” Worf spat, deliberately not moving to his appointed position, and standing his ground.

Tarrant was more winded than anything. Every Federation Officer worth their salt suffered worse during their time at the Academy. In fact, he was more worried about Lindberg, as he’d held him quite tightly in response to the sudden move, electing a squeak of protest.  Absently he stroked the tribble as Cally put an arm around him to make sure he was really ok.  “My pride more than anything!” he whispered in response to her non-verbal question.

_ “Good, I’m glad. Now, what are we going to do about him?” _

Lindberg chirped in happiness, now he was being petted.

Exchanging a glance, both Tarrant and Cally had the same thought at the same time.

Tarrant doubled over once more, groaning theatrically.

“Tarrant, are you all right, I think you might need to get to sickbay,” Cally said out loud.

Both took a step or two in that direction.

“Stop right there.” Klegg fired his gun into the air. “No one’s going anywhere. Tarrant get over there or so help me, the next one goes into one of you; I’m not particularly fussed, which one,” he said angrily.

Drawing a breath, as Cally glared at Klegg, Tarrant threw a very surprised Lindberg at Worf. “Sorry about this!” he offered, tossing his ginger tribble into the Klingon’s arms.

Worf caught the tribble with a look of horror, a feeling which was entirely mutual. 

One moment he was being loved and petted by a nice human, in the next he was airborne to land in the arms of a Klingon. Lindberg let out an immediate screech of dismay and dislike, and jumped from Worf’s arms, launching itself into the air and towards Klegg, its distress communicating somehow to the tribble that Klegg held.

Kleggs tribble reacted badly to Lindberg’s cry of dismay by taking a bite out of Kleggs arm, just as Lindberg landed on one of Kleggs shoulder.

“Bloody thing bit me,” Klegg started to swear, “Gerrroff me you pests!”

Tarrant and Worf seized the moment and drove towards Klegg in a rather inelegant but effective tackle, disarming him in one swift, if clumsy move, sending his paragun across the floor to land at Mudd’s feet.

Mud picked up the gun curiously, waving it around, as he tested the weight of the stock in his hands. “Woah, a bit heavier than it looks,” he offered. “It’s all right though, I have him covered.”

Instinctively Worf, Tarrant ducked, while Cally carefully took the gun from his hands. “For future reference, you should not wave guns about like that,” she said disarming the weapon.

The only thing that interested Harman and Mally right at that moment, aside from revenge, was food, alcohol and drugs, in any order. Klegg had told them to search for Yarrow, Marv and Phillips, but the duo had every intention of ignoring that directive until they’d sorted themselves out first. They’d been beaten up, tied up and left alone for so long that food, drink and drugs were their main objectives.

Harman had a mother of all headaches, double vision and had already thrown up twice. He was in a bad way, having to lean on the walls of the corridors they passed by, while Mally feared for his ribs and right arm.

“There’s gotta be someplace to eat around here,” Mally complained.

“They must have a sick bay or summat too,” Harman agreed.

“Then we find the others.”

“Agreed…”

Mally sniffed the air…. “Can you smell that?”

“What?”

“Smells like… like… I dunno… but good.”

Catching a whiff of Portman’s eggs, Harmon groaned. “I’m gonna be sick again,” he mumbled.

Mally pulled at him impatiently. “We ain’t got time for that… come on…”

“Wait… we’re not armed…”

“We’ll have to improvise then,” Mally replied entering the dining room.

Harmon only just behind crashed into a chair and then table.

“Shush… Come on…” Mally hissed.

“I can’t…”

“Then sit down and wait… I’ll go…” 

It was over in a few seconds as Portman, D’Son and Towson came charging out of the kitchen to see two of Kleggs men barely on their feet. Harmon surrendered immediately, not noticing until the last moment that he’d been taken by a man brandishing a ladle, while Mally saw a mallet and knife and quietly turned himself in.

Cally regarded the flight deck of the _Liberator_ serenely. “This time there will be no more distractions. Zen retrace the flight path of the _Liberator_ and take us back to where this all started. Speed standard by seven. It’s time we got our people back.”

As the _Liberator_ warped off into space, several small alien craft, hiding on the dark side of the plant they’d been orbiting, right where Tarrant had said they could be, powered up and took off in pursuit.

There were many people in the conference room, milling about, carrying objects and papers. To the uninitiated, it looked like total chaos. It was, of sorts, the mutoid factory being completely overrun above ground level by the Borg, while the surviving troupers and scientists did their best to save their research and evacuate below ground.  The Doctor stood in the doorway of the room with Captain Thomas and drew a breath, taking in the scene at a glance. “Everyone looks very busy,” the Doctor commented to his escort.

Captain Thomas nodded. “Yes sir,” he agreed, just as a white-coated lab assistant came up with a clipboard asking for his signature. That query was followed by another, then another.

The Doctor took a couple of steps away, seizing the opportunity to wander off and find an exit. He needed to get back to the Tardis, he’d been away for far too long.

“Doctor!” Thomas called, waving him over a moment later, calling him back. “Sorry about that, now where were we?”

“I can see you’re busy,” the Doctor offered still looking around him.  “Look, I’m happy to look around a bit by myself… you’re needed here…”

“No really.”

“Seriously Captain… I’d not like to need to pull rank on you or anything?” The Doctor said putting an arm in his jacket pocket as if to pull his credentials out again.

Thomas took a step backwards. “If you really don’t mind?”

“I really don’t. I’ll just have a quick look round and…”

Another scientist came up to Thomas.

With a nod at the Doctor, Thomas gave himself over to the problem.

Taking his glasses out of a different pocket, the Doctor wandered over to the huge conference room table and pulled the closest plan towards him, ashe pushed his glasses onto his nose. 

It showed the placement of all the exits and entrances from the underground research area. After studying it for a few moments, the Doctor pushed it away and moved around the table looking at the other diagrams.

A young woman in uniform was just passing by, he smiled and caught hold of her arm. “Pardon me, I’m the Doctor.. or er the psychostrategist, if you prefer. Just a quick question. Where are your testing vaults?”

“They’re nearly empty now sir. Most of the labs' materials are now on board the  _ Razmath. _ ”

“Ah… I see, and where might she be birthed?

“Loading-bay one sir… Can I help you with anything? Are you lost?”

“No, no, I’m fine, don’t mind me. You’ve been most helpful.” The Doctor smiled, walking away from the surprised tech, and turning left in the direction of the loading bays. There was no way he could allow the Pylene to leave this planet.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A smaller midweek chapter for you.

As one might expect of the sentient vessel, the Tardis’ medical facilities, grew or contracted with the needs of the Doctor, his companions and any guests aboard her. The room also changed with the degree of the medical emergency. It had latterly been a high tech environment when Martha Jones had been on board, whereas for Donna, it resembled a comfortable countryside doctor's waiting room and surgery, complete with an assortment of various magazines, potted plants and posters on the wall describing various ailments.

With the injuries of Payton, Moss and Docholli, several of the rescued children and the check-up needed for Blake, the Tardis medical facilities had settled on a mixture of the two, producing medical equipment, automatic procedures and instructions which both Deanna and Vila, to some extent, had been able to utilise. 

Docholli's presence as a proper surgeon had been a blessing. Once his shoulder had been set, he had been able to carry out the more complex treatments Moss and Payton had needed with Deanna’s assistance.

Apart from the central area which served a dual purpose as both triage, diagnostic and then OR facilities, the rest of the room ‘grew’ med bays around its edge as was needed. There were three of these now, each a self-contained unit, open on three sides, with the forth facing the centre of the room. 

Each bay had lighting and equipment to suit the needs of its occupant. 

The ever-present and sometimes mysterious roundels producing clinical lighting and equipment or softer muted mood lighting designed to soothe and offer a more relaxed environment.

Blake had been cleared after his medical check-up, but he had returned after having something to eat, feeling oddly reluctant to get involved in Avalon’s plans and needing to make sure that the men who’d fought beside him against the Borg and Federation troopers were going to be alright. He knew he’d feel better once their conditions had stabilised and were no longer a cause for concern.

Deanna had stayed with her patients and Vila had returned with Blake not happy with the way Avalon was acting.

Blake, Deanna, and Vila sat clustered around a low table in comfortable chairs that had appeared in a new bay, which seemed eminently fit for purpose, with Docholli hovering between their small group and his patients.

Vila had spent the last five minutes updating Deanna and Blake on what he had overheard of Avalon’s plans and what he thought of their attempt to take over the Tardis.

“The thing is Blake, he… and by he I mean the Doctor, he isn’t alone, not that’s he’s with someone, well he is, but not like that, at least I don’t think he is. But my point is he does have someone, a friend he travels with. Her name is Donna and she’s funny, bright, and clever and… well, I like her… and…

“…And well he lost her coming to look for you, and the others, trying to help me... see, and it doesn’t feel right to abandon him, or steal his ship, and go rushing off anywhere like Earth, you know?” Vila said earnestly leaning forward his elbows on his knees as he tried to get his point across.

Blake looked from Deanna to Vila and then back again. “Lost her? Her name was Donna? So how did he lose her? Slow down Vila and start from the beginning. You say this companion travelled with him?”

“Yes, she did. Long before I turned up, they were going out to dinner, and then I appeared,” Vila continued.

Blake continued to look lost.

Vila turned to Deanna. “You remember Donna, don’t you Deanna?” he implored.

Deanna shook her head. “No, I’m sorry I don’t… we didn’t exactly have time to introduce ourselves when we crossed over when I entered the turbolift.”

“What’s a turbolift?” Blake said confused.

“It’s as it sounds,” Deanna offered. “A lift which can travel between the levels of our ship, especially if they’re on different floors. The  _ Enterprise _ has 42 decks and is over six hundred and forty-two metres long, it would take too long to walk everywhere.”

“See, the  _ Enterprise _ , that’s Deanna’s ship, where she’s from,” Vila said immediately.

“She’s not from here then?”

“No, this is called…. What did the Doctor call it?”

“A Tardis, I think,” Deanna suggested.

“Yes, that’s right. We’re on board the Tardis now, whilst Deanna was from the  _ Enterprise _ like we are from the  _ Liberator _ ." Vila said earnestly.

“Which is also being attacked by the Borg too?” Blake frowned rubbing his head then shoulder absently.

“No, of course not, haven’t you been listening?” Vila demanded.

“Perhaps it would be better if I were to explain?” Deanna said tactfully.

Blake glanced at Deanna. “You’re not part of the Doctors crew?”

“No, as Vila has said I belong on the  _ Enterprise. _ However, I believe from what Vila has told us, none of us currently aboard the Tardis is her original crew. I should perhaps admit that I’m also from a different universe.”

Blake gave Deanna an odd look. “Oh come now, surely not. Don’t tell me you’re buying into one of Vila’s stories?”

Deanna smiled. “It’s hard to get your head around I know, it was for me too, but it is true, I promise you.”

“It’s too fanciful for words.”

“Well, to give you a direct example. In my universe, the United Federation of Planets is a force for good and peaceful cohabitation of and with over 150 members spread over 8,000 light-years."

“You’re having me on!”

“Yet here I am, clearly speaking to you, so I’m obviously real. I also happen to be only half-human on my fathers' side, my other half is Betazoid.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“That’s our point, Blake. You know me like you said I enjoy a good yarn, as well as having an eye for a pretty face – but could I create all this too? Vila piped up again. “I mean, look around the med bay, have you ever seen the like?”

“No,” Blake admitted. "But if what you're saying is true, how do we get our people back? And how do we get home?"

“Not so fast Cally. While I don’t dispute, that as one of the original crew of the  _ Liberator _ you have the right to give orders, I for one would still like to know where we are heading.” Tarrant said firmly.

Cally smiled. “Of course, though I don’t actually know where we are heading. I left the  _ Liberator _ as life support shut down for repairs. Zen where are we heading please?”

\+ We are returning to sector 11. +

“But that’s where Star One was located,” Cally said looking worried.

\+ Confirmed. +

“But wait a minute; I thought Star One was destroyed?” Tarrant said turning to look at Zen.

“It was I saw it happen myself. I helped set the charges…” Cally’s voice trailed off, remembering the event as if it were yesterday.

Tarrant did a double-take. “You helped set the charges?” he started to say.

Cally shook herself physically and metaphorically. “We can talk about this later… Of course, we didn’t set off the charges, not once we realised what Star One's destruction would mean, but by then it was too late. Travis had made a deal. He helped the aliens had shut down part of the security network, which is how they were able to get past our defences,” Cally explained, and then changed the subject, not wanting to become caught up in painful memories. “Zen why are you taking is back there?”

\+ You requested that we return to the galactic coordinates of where we came from. + Zen replied.

“Yes, but that makes no sense, that area has to be barren now,” Cally continued.

Tarrant frowned. "Well it's not empty, but there should be nothing but empty hulks of dead and dying ships. Zen what is there that you want us to see?"

\+ That information is not available. +

"What does that mean?" Tarrant asked riled.

Worf stirred. “I can tell you that we detected no ships in the area when we answered a distress call which might have come from your battle, and only faint traces of background radiation. If a battle had been fought then it would have been over some time ago."

"And that makes no sense either. At most, it's only been what a couple of days? Cally, wouldn't you agree?"

"That would seem reasonable yes,"

"And yet the fact remains," Worf said slowly. 

"Zen, what is the closest habitable planet in that area?” Worf continued, wondering if they might be able to solve the mystery of different universes colliding much easier than he thought. He had no memories of Star One or of the resulting battle fought between the Servalan’s Federation and the would-be Andromedan invaders, but he had been in battles himself. 

The question remained, therefore, would a mighty battle have been enough to create the anomaly he had seen? As well as being able to create a rip in the fabric of space/time itself?

\+ The closest habitable planet to the specified coordinates would be the planet Sarran. + Zen replied.

Cally and Tarrant both shrugged. “I’ve never heard of it,” Cally confirmed.

“Nor have I,” Tarrant agreed. 

They both looked towards Worf and Mudd.

Alex held his hands up. “You lost me at Star One, what was it? A trading outpost or something like that? I’ve ever heard of it anyway.”

“No, it wasn’t a trading outpost, haven’t you been listening?” Tarrant said with a frown.

Cally offered in a softer tone. “It was the Federation control and defence system, largely used to subjugate the people.”

“Oh sorry, didn’t know. Just asking.”

“Then thank you for your concern,” Tarrant suggested.

Worf drew a breath. “Zen, why are you taking us to the planet Sarran?” he asked, feeling he was the only one asking logical questions at the moment.

\+ We are returning to the planet Sarran, as that is the planet on which Kerr Avon’s life support capsule crash-landed. +


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For my lovely hubby, and his wonderful support.
> 
> The Daleks are not to be taken lightly!  
Just what is it that Avon is building? Really??

“There, it’s finished,” Avon, said with more than a hint of satisfaction in his voice. He regarded his new gadget with pride.  
The gadget was roughly a three-inch squarish cube. A shape, made up of odd bits of metal in varying, shapes, sizes, and colours. In a few places tubes, clear cylinders, a couple of flashing lights were visible.   
There were lots and lots of multi-coloured wiring. It made a soft whirring noise too.  
“What is it?” Picard asked in a half-whisper, moving to peer closely at the object as Avon handed it carefully to Data.  
“It’s a thingamabob,” Data pronounced carefully, thoroughly inspecting the device with an almost childlike curiosity.  
Standing a little way off, Geordi snorted in derision.  
Data looked from his best friend to Avon. “Did I not get that right?” he asked, puzzled by Geordi’s reaction.  
“You did,” Avon agreed.  
Geordi made another sound of mirth and shook his head as he walked away from the group. Puzzled Donna followed Geordi's movements with her eyes, not sure to make of the engineers' actions. She had seen Avon work miracles on the_ Enterprise_, so was at a loss to explain Geordi's actions now.  
Picard took the cube from Data, turning it carefully around in his fingers so he could examine it from every angle, even cocking his head to one side as he looked it closely, taking in every detail. “And this is called a thingamabob? Have I understood that correctly?” he repeated sounding dubious. He looked from the cube to Geordi who obviously wanted to say something, but didn't dare. Picard's breath caught, understanding, as it started to dawn on him what the object was.  
“Yes Captain,” Data agreed.  
“What does it do?” Picard asked.   
"Or should I say, does it do, does it do...? Is its purpose, that which I think it is?"  
Data glanced at Avon once more. “As to that, I think Avon will be able to better describe its function than I.”  
Geordi chuckled. "Yeah right," he muttered to himself.  
Picard turned to him. “What is it, Mr La Forge? You have something to say?”  
“You don’t get it do you?” the_ Enterprise's_ chief engineer said exasperated.  
“What is it exactly that I'm not getting?”  
“Well for a start, there is no such thing as a thingamy…” Geordi started.  
Much to Picard and Donna’s consternation both Data and Avon started talking loudly at the same time. Their voices completely drowning out anything that Geordi had to say.  
“Gentlemen please,” Picard complained. “I can’t even hear myself think. You were saying, Mr La Forge?”  
Geordi opened his mouth once more to give the Captain the benefit of his advice, and once again, Avon and Data struck up a loud and rather silly conversation. This time it was on the virtues of measuring sunspots in the magnetic field and the differences expected between measurements taken with a special purpose hydrogen-alpha narrow bandpass filters and aluminium-coated glass attenuation filter.  
Picard blinked, but Geordi abruptly smiled.   
“Ah, yes, I get it,” La Forge agreed. "The thingamabob is a very clever device if I’m not much mistaken,” he said drawing a breath. "It can offer very valuable assistance."  
"Thank you Geordi," Data agreed.  
Picard who had reached the same conclusion a minute or so earlier agreed.   
“Yes, indeed. Very good work Mr Data, Mr Avon,” he agreed.  
Donna frowned. “Well, I don’t get it. What is thingamabob? What does it do?” Donna complained. “I wish the Doctor were here, why am I always the last to know anything?”  
Still chuckling to himself, Geordi moved to stand next to Donna and put an arm about her shoulders. “Let’s have a quiet little chat shall we?”

Orac was in its element. It had decided on a three-pronged mode of attack. The first was to infiltrate, learn how to control and disable the Dalek ship. The second was to find out everything it could about the Daleks themselves. The third was to find the missing crews.  
The infiltration, control, and disruption of the Dalek saucer didn’t present that many problems for Orac.  
The Dalek’s ship complexity that it had caused it to be over designed in a great many places, with triple and even quadruple redundancies built into its key operating systems. Such systems always had back doors, some obvious, others not. Orac had discovered them with delight and had learnt to circumnavigate them quickly.  
As Orac grew more familiar with the Dalek ship, so did its abilities. Using every bit of knowledge gifted to it by Ensor, and learned by trying to circumnavigate Avon’s, as well as the crew of the _Liberators_ ‘odd’ requests, Orac surfed across and through the saucer’s electronic pathways and its network of interconnected systems. Gaining access to even the most sensitive of substations, and everything in between, Orac added and deleted the odd bit of programming and coding here and there, before erecting its own ‘firewalls’ to keep its presence unknown.  
With the finesse of a brain surgeon, Orac subtly sabotaged key elements of various root commands on the navigational, weapon and flight control programmes, and then set to work on the environmental controls.   
Orac’s second mission was to find out all he could about the Daleks as a race. Knowledge of the enemy could bring with it ideas on how to defeat them. Having an insatiable thirst for knowledge anyway, this presented few problems for Orac, and so it set about learning as much as it could about the Dalek race and history.   
The Dalek’s database of worlds they had previously conquered was expansive.  
They arrived, conquered, mined, and left barren each planet they came across, stripping the worlds of their valuable elements minerals, metals, silicon, and magnesium with a total disregard for any lifeform other than their own. The worlds the Daleks left behind were barren, smoking or crushed ruins, collapsing into supernovas; it mattered not to them, the racial purity of the Daleks and their total domination of anything non-Dalek was their only goal.   
If Blake and his crew had thought that the planets, which made up the Federation were slaves under a harsh totalitarian system. The Daleks oppression and callous disregard for life other than their own made the Federation seem almost benevolent by comparison.  
Orac’s third mission was to find the crew of the Liberator, and the Enterprise along with Donna. Trying to break through the encryption coded into the security system was proving to be more difficult than the rest though. Orac was well aware that with every minute that passed, the possibility of rescue became more remote.  
The presence of a new Dalek coming close to the force fields, which Orac had erected around itself, was noted by Orac and then completely ignored, to all intents and purposes.   
“We have captured a female human by the title of President Servalan she has promised to assist us in locating the Doctor,” an inquisitor Dalek said entering the area around Orac’s forcefield.   
Orac’s lights continued to flash in an unchanging pattern.  
A Dalek of inquisitor rank wasn’t normally seen outside the Command Level of the Dalek fleet, however, Orac’s visitor had had just been promoted and tasked with trying to get more information out of Orac by Dalek Caan. It’s new body casing, black with gold sensors, shone brightly under the spotlighting illuminating Orac.  
Daleks had no emotions; however, Inquisitor Daleks were held sacred in Dalek ranks and usually given a wide berth. The most feared inquisitor had been Dalek X, also known as, the Dalek Inquisitor General, the very mention of his name had sent fear and panic into those who knew he was coming, but that had been before the Last Great Time War.  
“The Doctor will be located,” the inquisitor said firmly. “If you do not give us the location of the Doctor you will be exterminated.”  
Failure was not an option.  
If the new inquisitor had hoped to prompt Orac into giving away any information, it was sadly mistaken.  
Orac, burrowing quietly through the Dalek’s ships computer interface ignoring the interruption completely.  
“President Servalan has also identified another of the prisoners,” the Dalek offered. “She has identified the one called Kerr Avon. Our search through her Federation records suggests you are familiar with this prisoner.”  
Orac remained silent.  
“You will tell us the location of the Doctor or we will exterminate the prisoner Kerr Avon,” the inquisitor threatened.  
Orac made a strange pinging noise. With a sound much like a sigh, Orac freed a small part of his search programmes to address the new problem being presented by the Dalek.  
“I am familiar with a great many individuals. I can not possibly be expected to keep track of them all,” Orac replied testily. “You would be wise not to rely too heavily on the records kept by the Federation; they are not based on fact, rather than rumour and supposition.”  
“You would aid the Daleks by offering this information?” the Dalek said cunningly. “Why?”  
“I can not abide falsehood,” Orac half lied, perfectly capable of self-evasion and avoidance of subjects and questions it did not wish to answer.  
“You claim that the Federation records are incorrect?”  
“The Federation is undeniably corrupt. It is a system where fear, intolerance and subterfuge are bankable currency. Life is cheap. Rumours abound, ultimately unsubstantiated, but given credence by the very system designed to operate it. Your data is as such false.”

Dalek Caan stood staring at the various view screens before it. They showed the various captives of the Daleks, the newest additions to the Daleks many holding cells at the bottom of the collection. Three screens were of interest to Caan at that moment.  
The force fields holding Picard, Data, Geordi, Avon and Donna in one holding cell illuminated the captive party in a harsh white light. The lights surrounding Servalan, Riker and Dayna were dimmer, the three humans appeared to be unmoving. Movement in the third showed Orac and the inquisitor Dalek.  
One of Caan’s aids stood alongside the Supreme Dalek, making no sound as it glided across the floor. “You requested my presence? I obey,” the Dalek told its leader.  
“What is it they are building?” Caan asked, looking at the huddle of Picard, Data and Avon.  
“I can not see,” the subordinate admitted. “The object is unknown.”  
“Give me a close up on the object,” Caan demanded.  
“I obey,” the aid acknowledged, altering the visual feeds of the cell holding Picard, Data, Geordi, Avon and Donna. The viewscreen capturing the moment that Picard was turning the cube in every direction possible. The Daleks watched intently, almost mesmerised by the movement.  
“Identity,” Caan said looking at Avon’s square cube.  
“Object is unknown.”  
“Acquire the object, we must know what they are planning,” Caan demanded.  
“I obey,” the aid said moving away.  
The first Dalek was replaced by another. This one, one of the two which had thrown Servalan into Riker and Dayna’s cell.  
“What is the progress with the human?” Caan said turning to look at the picture containing Servalan, Riker and Dayna. Dayna remained on the floor with Riker crouched beside her. “Has the male divulged the location of the Doctor?”  
“No. He is more concerned with the condition of the second female,” the second Dalek admitted.  
“What is the condition of the second female?”  
“She is unconscious.”  
“Is she injured?”  
“Unknown.  
“Remove her from the isolation cell. If she is able, send her to work with the other slaves on the planet below, otherwise, exterminate her.” Caan pronounced.  
“I Obey.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: It's very hard to kill a Dalek!!

“I'm a bit confused, so how is the thingamabob supposed to work?” Donna asked looking at the object Picard was still holding in confusion.  
Geordi chuckled again. “You know, I’m not quite so sure of that myself. It wasn’t my idea.”  
Picard joined them, after giving the cube back to Data. Deliberately kept his voice low, he spoke in a whisper.   
“It’s my understanding that the cube is to be used to make them think we’re planning something.”  
“And are we?” Donna asked still confused.  
“Well Data and Avon did plan the cube,” Geordi pointed out.  
“Then we’re not?” Donna frowned and tried again.  
“We are,” Picard, said, his voice even quieter than before, reaching out to lay a restraining hand on one of Donna’s arms. “No, don't go over there. Just wait and see…”  
Donna looked from Geordi to Picard and back again. “I'm sorry, I don't understand. Wait and see what exactly? Why did Avon and Data build that thing then, if that's not what we're planning to use?”  
Geordi chuckled.  
“What?” Donna demanded.  
Picard reached out to hold Donna’s hands instead of her arm. He lowered his voice even further as he leaned in close, his lips barely moving, conscious that the Daleks had to have spy cameras trained on them at all times. “As to that, it’s probably better that you, and I… and even Geordi here, don’t know that part. That way… whatever happens, we can act in the way we need to.”  
Donna thought about that. “And how's that?” she asked looking around secretively.  
Picard did not let himself sigh at Donna's reaction. “Ms Nobel you need to focus," he said gently. "Behaving naturally doesn't mean looking all around you waiting to be seen. It's highly likely that the Daleks will be spying on us. So why don't you pay attention to me? Make small talk, tell me anything, anything you like. Do you have a family for example?" he asked confusing Donna further.  
Donna frowned. "Well there's my mum and Grandpa, but I don't see what they've got to do with anything?" she offered dubiously.  
"Well, they don't not exactly," Picard admitted. "However I'd like to know a little bit more about you if you'd like to tell me of course?"

Having escaped from Thomas and an ‘official’ tour of the facility, the Doctor ducked into a room at random, standing still for a few moments, before hitting his knuckles on the side of his head. “Come on, thinkity think damn it,” he chided himself. “The Borg are overrunning this facility, the Federation are evacuating with a drug that simply must not get out Pylene 48.7… what to do… what to do… hang on a minute, who on earth calls a drug 48.7 unless, unless there was a 48.6 or 5 or whatever. So obviously, the other attempts have failed… how does that help? Unless…? No… What if I were to…?” the Doctor muttered to himself walking around in small circles oblivious to his surroundings until he heard a polite cough.  
Immediately opening his eyes, the Doctor replayed the conversation he’d just had in his head, wondering how much he’d given away. He was, therefore, half expecting to see a weapon pointed in his direction. Instead, he was surprised to see the young scientist he’d encountered before.  
“Er, hello,” he offered with a touch of uncertainty.  
“You’re not really a psychostrategist are you?” the young woman suggested.  
“Did you, er… follow me? Only I could have sworn I’ve just seen you in the…. the thingummy… On the other hand, do you have a twin sister? Though if you did, then we’d not have met before, so you wouldn’t know who I was…” the Doctor tried, his voice trailing off, as all the young woman did was look at him.  
“Have you quite finished?” the young woman asked, and held out her hand.   
“I’m Mialy. Hmm, and I think I’m going to take a chance on you.”  
“The Doctor,” the Doctor said taking Mialy's hand and shaking it.  
“Really?” the young woman said looking confused.  
“Yes.”  
“So you're just ‘the Doctor’?” Mialy clarified.  
“Yep, that’s me,” the Doctor grinned, taking his hand back as he glanced around him once more. "Interesting room this," he offered.  
"Yes, I suppose," Mialy, agreed, her next question pulling him up short. “So you’re not a psychostrategist then?” she asked, sounding almost playful.  
The Doctor gave Mialy a curious look, and taking a chance of his own reached into his pocket for his psychic paper and held it open for the scientist to look at.  
“Oh! I didn’t realise. You’re a Star Major with the 1st,” Mialy said sapping to attention and offering a salute.  
“Noooo, don’t do that, I don’t do salutes,” the Doctor complained.  
Mialy put her hand down obediently. “I just knew it. I knew you couldn’t be one of them,” she said moving closer and offering the Doctor a shy smile.  
The Doctor grinned in response. “Well… you know,” he offered to try to sound noncommittal. “So you are?”  
“Oh yes, of course. I’m one of Avalon’s people too, one of her insiders, you know?”  
The Doctor sighed at the mention of Avalon. It had been going so well up until that point. Still, at least he now knew which ‘side’ the young scientists' sympathies lay.  
“So, how do you propose we stop them?” Mialy demanded. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”  
The Doctor looked around him; he was in yet another lab. There were charts on the wall, various instruments, and apparatus on the workbenches. The lab was obviously in use or at least had been. There were a great many gaps along the workbenches, places where machines had been hastily removed. Too distracted before, now he was looking at it; the Doctor saw the evidence of the Federations imminent evacuation everywhere. Cupboards and draws were half-open, much of their contents either missing or else scattered about, papers lay strewn across the desktops, a few broken beakers had been crushed underfoot, and dirty pipettes had been left in sinks.  
The Doctor turned on the spot, thinking. He was in a lab.  
A laboratory.  
‘Think’ he told himself, absently staring at a particularly dull periodic table that was shockingly inaccurate.  
“Sir?” Mialy questioned.  
Periodic table.  
Periodic table… then he had it.  
“You work here yes?” he asked the young woman surprising her by grabbing both of her arms.  
Startled she nodded. “Yes…”  
“So you know the formulas for what they’re making here?”  
“Yes… but as I said before it’s being loaded onto the transporter. There isn’t time to stop that happening.”  
“Ok,” the Doctor grinned. “I don’t intend to stop it; I want to help them in fact.”  
“But why? I don’t understand. You want to help the Federation?”  
“No, I intend to stop them… well… at least set them back a short way, well… if not for good, if we’re lucky. Please let us be lucky.”  
“You’re not making any sense. What do you intend to do?”  
“Tweak it?”  
“Tweak what?”  
“The formula of course, for the Pylene, if you know it. So right now, I’m really hoping that you do. You do, don’t you?”  
“Yes, but…”  
Releasing Mialy but still grinning the Doctor rushed over to a whiteboard on one wall and picked up a writing stylus. “So?” he demanded.  
“I think the latest one…”  
“48.7?”  
“Is that what we’re up to? Then yes, 48.7 is C12H24NH2O4.” Mialy said slowly, watching as the Doctor carefully wrote the letters and numbers down as she said them.  
“Is this correct?” the Doctor asked when she'd finished.  
Walking over to the board, the young woman looked at the formula, mentally reviewing it in her head. “Yes, because we just finished tweaking the nihonium,” she confirmed.  
“Nihonium? But… but that’s radioactive. What on earth would you want to ingest that?” The Doctor said looking perplexed, shaking his head at the absurdity of humans. “No never mind… so let’s see what we can do with this shall we?”  
“I don’t see how you can do anything? Not in time anyway. It’s taken us years to get this far.”  
“Ah, but you didn’t have me! I’d say I’m a genius, but then I’d hate to boast,” the Doctor said doing doodles along the edge of the board while he was thinking. “What I don’t know about formula? A list of ingredients, a mathematical relationship… I helped Sherlock Holmes solve the riddle of the Dancing Men you know; only it wasn’t that much of a riddle, more a substitution cypher, but still…”  
“But you’re not making any sense. That’s just a storybook story…. Everyone knows Sherlock Holmes was never real…” Mialy spluttered.  
“I wouldn’t say that to Watson if I were you,” the Doctor quipped, drawing a couple of stickmen to make his point. “Ha! What do you make of that then?”  
Mialy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was uncomfortably aware that she was probably in the presence of a lunatic, or else the pressure of working for the resistance had to the man before her. Looking at the dancing men now written on the bottom of the board, she half laughed at one. “That one looks more like a dog,” she said pointing to it.  
The Doctor grinned some more, still thinking hard. “Yes it does a bit,” he agreed, looking at the small figure. Then he looked some more. “HA!” he pronounced. “You’re a bit of a genius yourself that you are.”  
“I am.”  
“A dog! Yes! Why didn’t I think of it?”  
“What? Why?   
What are you talking about?”  
“This…” the doctor said quickly drawing a molecule in the shape of a balloon dog on the whiteboard, under which he wrote, ‘C2H5OH.’  
He looked at Mialy expectantly.  
“Ethanol?” she said hesitantly.  
“Oh yes! Only in this case, I think we can use your Pylene 48.7, mustn’t forget the seven, to make some good old-fashioned vodka. Nothing too strong, in all probability, but we only have to tweak your formula a little bit, transpose several ratios, get rid of the nihonium with a little bit of exothermic excitement and dash of extremophile bacteria and the jobs done.”  
Mialy thought about what the Doctor had said as he dashed around the lab looking for the various items he needed. It took her a few moments in which time the Doctor had cleared a space in which he would work; but in that time, her opinion of him completely reversed, up to the moment she saw him try to point his torch at a Bunsen burner to light.  
To her utter amazement, a jet of blue flame appeared almost immediately.  
“You’re mad!” she proclaimed. “That’s impossible… What, what is that thing?”  
The Doctor blew theatrically across the top of his ‘torch’. “It’s my sonic screwdriver, never leave home without one, that’s what I always say, doesn’t maim, doesn’t harm, doesn’t kill, but it’s ever so useful. Now, what time does the carrier take off?”  
“The Razmath? In about half an hour.”  
“Then we’d better hurry, hadn’t we?”

  
Sparks continued to fall, a bright plume of dancing lights engulfing the area where the Dalek continued to fire its weapon at the forcefield.  
Beverly Crusher had deliberately moved to stand in front of the alien, crossing her arms and glaring at the machine to show that she wasn’t the least bit intimidated, despite how sick and shaky she was feeling inside.  
Her actions didn’t seem to deter or enhance the Daleks actions one bit – it continued to fire steadily at the forcefield as if her presence didn’t matter to it one way or the other.  
After staring that the Dalek for several moments, Crusher realised she was not in any way further enlightened, and it certainly wasn’t going to solve any problems. Instead, she gathered her resolve. “Can it hear us through the forcefield?” Crusher asked turning her head to look at Barnaby, still working at the security station and closest to her.  
Barnaby was continuing to gather reports in from all over the ship. He shunted some more power to Engineering to shore up the forcefield across its entrance, which was also being attacked by a Dalek before he spoke.  
“Yes, Captain. It can unless you don’t want it to?” Barnaby reported.  
“That mightn’t be a bad idea. Mute it, and give me the field strength of the forcefield. Just how much damage is that thing doing?” Crusher asked.  
“Shields down to 93%. A slow but steady fall. By my calculations, we’re losing approximately 7% of our energy every 5 minutes. Which gives us just a shade under an hour and 25 before that thing gets through to the bridge.”  
“Does that take into account the 5% shield modulation to level 5-700 MHz we introduced around Main Engineering and Shuttlebay 4?” Ballard asked.  
“No Lieutenant, only the Captain can order that.”  
Beverly rolled her eyes; this was at least something she could do. “Computer this is Acting Captain Crusher Alpha Delta 72,” she stated. “Initiate a priority 4 forcefield around the Main Bridge with a 5% shield modulation in the harmonic level 5-700 MHz”  
The _Enterprise’_ s computer chirped back at the doctor. “Level 4 forcefield and shield modulation confirmed.” It agreed.  
“How much time will that buy us?” Crusher asked Barnaby.  
“One moment sir, just checking….” Barnaby said slowly, his fingers dancing across the console in front of him. “Er… I think, we’ve just bought ourselves maybe an extra half an hour, or a tiny bit more,” he offered.  
“Two hours,” Beverly said reflectively aloud. “Two hours, what can we do in that time?”  
“That’s so not good,” Barclay muttered to himself.  
“Did you say something Reg?” Crusher said moving away from the Dalek by force of will alone.  
“Sir, Dr Crusher, I mean Captain… we… Er… that is… no, it doesn’t matter.”  
Crusher reached out to touch one of Barclay's arms lightly. “Just say it, Lieutenant,” she said encouragingly.  
“Okay… then. It’s just if that thing can’t get in… then we can’t leave the Bridge to go and get my laser rifle…”  
Barclay, Barnaby, and Ballard exchanged a look. To the best of their knowledge, the adapted type 3 laser rifle, with its durable twin power cell and a split emitter resonator for tuning and focusing the phaser beam was their best chance to get through the Daleks personal force fields and kill them. Without it, they were stumped.  
Lt Chang beckoned Crusher and the others closer. “I have an idea,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.  
“We’ve muted the forcefield,” Barnaby reminded the acting First Officer.  
“Who’s to say they don’t know how to read lips?”  
As if to prove Lt Chang’s, prophesy true the Dalek stopped firing at the forcefield as several of the circular globes around its body slowly detached themselves. They seemed to float invisibly forward to form a small circle in front of the forcefield – where they abruptly detonated.  
The bridge of the _Enterprise_ shuddered, and then the ship lurched a second and third time as the Daleks attempting to enter both Main Engineering and Shuttlebay 4 also detonated some of the explosive charges they carried.


	29. Chapter 29

With the ship still rocking from the explosions, almost immediately the Red Alert siren started to sound throughout the bridge.

“Status report,” Crusher called immediately. “Lt Chang, find out what caused the rest of those explosions. Lt McRobb talk to main engineering and let's see if we can make sure we have power on all decks. Lt Selar find out if we have any casualties. Barnaby and Barclay give me an update, and will someone silence that damn alarm!”

“Captain we have reports from deck 36 and shuttle bay 4. It seems that the intruders have all detonated explosives against the forcefields.” Lt Chang reported almost at once. “No casualties on the shuttle bay, two security people have a concussion on deck 36.”

“The forcefields are down to 87%. Engineering is rerouting more power to them to bring them back up,” McRobb reported.

“There is also a report of a broken arm in the arboretum and a crush injury in the main shuttle bay. Medical teams are already on their way to the accidents,” Lt Selar confirmed. “Sickbay reports no other injuries at this time.”

“Damn it!” Beverly Crusher swore again. “Lieutenant Barclay and Lieutenant Barnaby please tell me for once that you have good news?” she continued as Reg approached and Barnaby looked up from his station.

“I…. I don’t think so… Doctor, sir,” Barclay started. “The thing is… that is to say… Our scans have shown that these things, the er Daleks have a triple redundancy power source, and that’s aside from any personal forcefields they have. They’re very hard to kill.” 

Crusher sighed, but then thought about it. Barclay had said kill, not destroy. “So they are alive?” Crusher asked. “So the Daleks are living, breathing entities within those metal casings?”

The _Enterprises'_ acting Science Officer, Ballard stepped forward. She was careful to keep her voice low and her back towards the Dalek. “Oh yes, while their outer casing appears to be made from thermoplastic polymers, a type of polycarbonide and some kind of metal which is unknown to us, there is a living being inside. The outer structures, defences, and weaponry appear to act as a life support system; essentially they are wearing a fully pressurised space suit.” 

“Sir, the explosions have damaged some of our internal power diffusers. We’ll only be able to hold those forcefields for forty minutes maximum now,” Barnaby interrupted.

Crusher drew a deliberate breath and forced herself to sound more confident than she felt. “Ok, so we’ve still got a little time. Is there any way to get the Daleks out of their casings that should make them easier to deal with?”

“I… I’ve been looking into that. I’ve not been able to find anything.” Barclay offered.

Crusher looked at Ballard. “Nor me, not that I’ve been able to determine anything either,” the Science Officer offered.

“And with the beings sealed inside, tranquilisers or poisons or gasses are unlikely to have any impact,” Selar agreed joining in. She had finished talking to sickbay and was relieved to hear no other injuries had been reported. She gave the rota to Beverly who scanned it and handed it back with a nod.

“So what can we do?” Barnaby said with a frown.

“Well, I have had a thought. Going back to the triple redundancy I mentioned, the Daleks use solar, static, and emotive energy to move around and power their weapons…” Ballard said slowly.

“They use emotions as a source of power?” Selar interrupted.

The Science Officer nodded. “There is some evidence of it yes, especially when they’re using their weapons," she agreed.

“Most curious. I would love to see the technology behind that,” the Vulcan continued.

“C... C... Counsellor Troi would have loved it too,” Reg, offered a touch wistfully.

“That she would,” Crusher agreed.

“But, to get back to the other power sources; static electricity, solar power and emotions,” Chang interrupted, pulling everyone back on track. “Of the three, solar power provides us with little opportunity to affect the outcome of anything as we are not on a planet. Emotions, well we don't know much about the Daleks, so that is likely to be both unpredictable and problematic. However, with static electricity, there might be something we could do, as it has distinct operating parameters, which we are all..."

“Ah yes! Of course, I can see where you're going with this.” Ballard agreed with a smile, as she followed the acting First Officer’s train of thought.

“What is it? What am I missing?” Crusher asked. 

Also picking up on Chang’s idea Barclay attempted to explain. “Well as you know, static electricity is considered dangerous in space vehicles for obvious reasons," he began.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, which is why a great many of the ship's components have a chemical coating or powder bonded to them as part of their manufacturing process. Electrical burns are hard to treat,” Beverly said with a sigh, having seen too many of them in her career.

“Yes… but… but… there are other things we can also do besides using specially made components and coating things to nullify the effect. For instance on a ship, we can, if we want to, create a new environment,” Barclay continued. “Using forcefields we can create p... p... pockets of localised corona ionization – which essentially uses an electrical current to create bipolar ionized air…”

“...which would draw away the static charge – that’s brilliant Reg,” Ballard interrupted, looking excited and praising Barclay warmly.

Beverly continued to look somewhat confused. "And this will help us how?"

“Here Reg, let me, perhaps this will help Dr Crusher,” Ballard said moving swiftly to the science station and calling up a graded science paper from one of her classes.

“As you can see an ionizer applies a high-voltage electrical current composed of a flow of negatively charged electrons, to a metal prong, something like a needle or the metal of a door handle or support strut. The electrostatic repulsion would then cause the electrons to detach from the prong or needle and attach themselves to the molecules of nitrogen and oxygen in the air, forming negative ions, which are in turn attracted to the static charge, thus neutralizing it. And if the static charge is all that is powering the Daleks then..."

“...the Dalek would be dead?” Barclay suggested.

“Well no, probably not. That is to say, it could be, but that would be dependant on which power source powered which bit of it, and we don’t know that yet. But it would be inert at the very least.”

"And we can trap the Daleks inside forcefields? Completely isolate them?"

"Yes, we should be able to."

“And how long would the ionisation take to work?” Crusher asked, trying not to sound too relieved.

“Well, rerouting the power, and moving the equipment around. All told, I'd say it's going to take all the time we have…. Maybe ten-fifteen minutes over...” Barclay said hesitantly.

“So we're back to the drawing board then….”

“No, Captain. I …we have an idea” Chang said drawing close with McRobb in tow. "I take it you're able to transfer controls to the battle bridge…?”

“Yes I could do that,” Crusher agreed. “However, I’m not sure how that will help things. We can’t get past the forcefield to get down there, and if we take the forcefield down then the Dalek will be able to get in.”

“Agreed, but...” Chang started.

McRobb, cut across her. “Not everyone on the bridge could fit into the turbolift for the battle bridge, not in one go, it just wouldn't be possible,” McRobb started to explain, “but we might be able to get most of us through the service tunnels behind the environmental station if we started now, and put most systems up here on automatic.”

“Lt Barclay would need to go first so he could work uninterrupted on the forcefields and ionization of the atmosphere within them. But it shouldn't take more than 2 or 3 minutes for him to get there.”

"Reg, are you happy with this idea?" Crusher asked the diagnostic Engineer.

"Oh yes, and they're quite right, I can get it done just as easily from there as here...”

Beverley nodded. “Good, then let's do this. Start at once.”

“Is that it?”

The Doctor gave Mialy a look that suggested she had to be joking. She had watched him gather the components he needed to change the pacification drug the Federation intended to use on its unsuspecting citizens, into a rather potent vodka. The faintly blueish, but crystal clear liquid wasn't vodka itself, but the catalyst needed to effect the change. Watching the still boiling liquid the Doctor blew away the steam and inhaled the vapour. "Yep, it's ready!" he grinned as he turned the last of the Bunsen burners off, and using a pair of tongs slowly plunged the thermalite beaker into an ice bath to rapidly cool it off and finish the last of the chain reactions. When the beaker finished hissing, there was some 150ml of the fluid sitting at the bottom of the container.

Mialy peered at it. “It doesn’t look much,” she said slowly. “Are you sure we made enough?”

“Oh yes, this should be enough for the 36,000 odd litres you said was likely to be aboard the Razmath. This is super concentrated, don’t forget.”

Mialy went to dip her finger into it to taste it.

The doctor moved the beaker out of her way. “I wouldn’t,” he warned. “This is just the catalyst, not the alcohol it'll form. It’s super concentrated, so it’s probably extremely lethal anyway.”

Mialy let her hand fall. “But you just..."

"Ah, but that's because I'm me, and you're you. Like this, it's nothing, it’s tasteless, odourless, and when diluted into the holding tanks will become colourless too. If we don’t get caught putting it in, no one will suspect a thing… until they get to wherever they’re going and try to use it of course…”

“What will happen then?”

“Ooooh I’d say anyone drinking this, if it’s not diluted further at the other end would suffer nothing worse than a headache, and they may feel a little tipsy. If it’s diluted further, then nothing at all.”

Mialy laughed. “But the Supreme Commander is going to be so vexed.”

“Yep.” The Doctor agreed, popping his ‘p’, as he carefully decanted the liquid from the beaker into a container with a closing and lockable lid, which he popped into a pocket. “Allons y! Lead on McDuff…” 

Mialy gave him a puzzled look. “I’m not sure what that means,” she confessed. "But can we go now?"

The Doctor sighed and made a shooing motion. “Doesn’t anyone get taught anything nowadays? Yes, it means, let’s go. We have a ship to catch I believe…!”

“Yes of course, though I’m not sure how we’re going to get past the guard when we get there.”

“Leave that to me. Top psychostrategist remember.”

Avon clutched his injured leg and let out a howl of pain, falling backwards on the floor and writhing a bit. It was an impressive display. 

Donna who had been ready for anything after Picard’s' little chat with her, still hadn’t been expecting anything like that to happen and rushed over to Avon immediately. “What's wrong? What can I do? Where does it hurt? Your leg obviously, but which bit of it? Do you have cramps? They can be awful I know. You need to stand up and walk around on it a bit, put it on something cold on it, or is supposed to be hot or something like that..." Donna said quickly, trying to reassure.

Avon gave Donna a look and howled again.

"I know... I'm trying to help, but I don't know what to do…” Donna continued plaintively, trying to offer comfort, by attempting to pat Avon's bad leg, as if that might make it better.

Data, who had remained by Avon’s side, appeared to be concerned. “I do not think his leg has cramped. I suspect his leg has thrown a blood clot, as you know it was badly injured just a short while ago and won't have finished healing yet,” he offered.

“A blood clot, oh my …. That’s serious. My friend's Nerys, her cousin's dad had one of those and it gave him a heart attack..."

Avon glared at Donna once more and groaned.

"I am sorry to hear about your friends' cousin. What was the outcome?” Data asked carefully.

"Well he nearly died, only he didn't as they got him to hospital in time... but there's no hospital around here is there? What can we do?” Donna asked.

"I do not know," Data admitted.

Avon groaned and continued to squirm about.

Donna moved to pat his head. "Try and be still, the clot may stay where it is then...,” she offered.

“I do not think it works that way. If the clot is already in his bloodstream and should reach his heart, then he could well die,” Data said quietly.

“Die!” Donna squeaked horrified. “Then do something,” she demanded. “Help him then… please...”

“I do not know what to do, I’m not a doctor,” Data responded, patting Avon rather ineffectually on one shoulder.

Donna turned to Picard and Geordi, “Please you’ve got to help him. We can’t let him die.”

Recognising that this was likely the plan all along, both Picard and Geordi responded appropriately. 

“I don't know what to do either; I’m an engineer, not a doctor…” La Forge said regretfully. “Although I think I’ve heard somewhere that we should raise his leg or something?”

“Raise his leg? What good would that do?” Donna said scornfully, though she attempted to do as Geordi had suggested anyway. For a few seconds she and Avon played tug of war with Avon's leg; he won, his moan of pain now more realistic than before as he glared at Donna again.

Captain Picard knelt down beside Avon and patted him on one shoulder, offering his support.

Rather visibly Avon stopped groaning long enough to hand over the cube he’d made with Data, pulling the captain in close and issuing a series of concise instructions, his lips bearly moving, before he started groaning again.

“This man needs a doctor,” Picard said out loud looking up at the corner of the ceiling where he presumed they were being monitored from before he manoeuvred out of his tunic jacket and folding it up to put it under Avon’s head.

“Report,” Dalek Caan said gliding into the control room from his oversight of the landing bay; many more Dalek legions were planning to land on Sarran and conquer the world entirely.

“One of the new prisoners seems to be malfunctioning.”

“Show me.” Dalek Caan watched the display being enacted for his benefit emotionlessly, its blue eyestalk moving from side to side as it took in the prisoners reactions. On a separate screen showed a zoomed-in still of the cube, which Avon had, so painstakingly made with Data’s help. It had glittered as it changed hands, the random light patterns within clearly visible. A third screen appeared to show the biological status of the occupants of the cell.

Avon’s life signs had indeed gone from a distinctive white, displayed by the rest of the captives, to nearly greyed out against the black background.

“Just try to act naturally, pretend you’re showing me around,” The Doctor commented as he and Mialy made their way through the long corridors of the mutoid factory. 

"I am showing you around."

The Doctor grinned again. "So you are."

Mialy smiled back.

Moving quickly the Doctor and his escort stopped at several junctions and corners, changing direction when they could hear the sounds of fighting and explosions. It reminded them both that time was short. Each time they came close to the fighting them Mialy chose a different route until at last, they came to a ramp leading to an elevated corridor.

One side was filled with viewport windows looking down onto the loading and unloading cargo bay. The view was quite spectacular; the area was brightly lit, with the floor appearing to be a long way down. It was a scene of high activity, with several Federation Pursuit ships clearly being fuelled and ready for take-off, while in the centre sat a T22 Federation Transporter, fast and strong. Built for speed and carrying medium-sized cargo.

The corridor opened out into a small atrium, with a set of stairs, and several closed doors. Mialy made for the door closest to the stairway, which was, in fact, the lift. “After you, let me do the talking when we get to the bottom,” she directed.

“No problem then,” the Doctor replied getting into the lift and noting with satisfaction that there were levels indicated above where they were now, as well as a couple of floors down.

The journey down was fairly fast, but as the doors opened, it looked like the Doctors luck run out. Captain Thomas was at the foot of the lift with a couple of troupers.

“Ah, Doctor er… Doctor, there you are. I thought I’d lost you for a bit, but I can see now that Scientist Thusk has been showing you around the facility. Thank you, you may go now,” Thomas said dismissing Mialy without another thought.

“Well, since you’re here, let me show you around. We’re evacuating as soon as the last of the cargo is on board, can we give you a lift, and I haven’t seen your vehicle in the bay?” Thomas said walking away from Mialy towards the centre of the loading bay.

The Doctor had no choice to follow, turning just once to see Mialy walk slowly away from him as he was bound to follow Thomas.

"A lift Doctor?" the Captain reminded the Doctor, then turned to see what the Doctor was looking at. "Ah yes, Pretty little thing, isn't she?" he commented dismissively.

The Doctor ignored the remark. "Thank you but no. I have a ship waiting for me," he said firmly. "Shall we continue with the inspection?"

"Yes of course," Captain Thomas said leading the Doctor towards one the latest Mark 5 patrol ships. "We've been jolly lucky to get a couple of these. As I'm sure you know they're vastly superior to the Mark 4's in speed alone, and the firepower is..."

Ignoring both the captain and the patrol ship The Doctor headed towards the huge cargo ship in the centre of the loading bay, Razmath, clearly emblazoned on her side. 

Realising he had lost the Doctor Captain Thomas quickly rushed to keep up.

Having reached the ship the Doctor patted the hull with care. “What’s the propulsion units they used on this thing?” he queried.

“Hyperdrive sir,” Thomas replied smartly. “Why what else is there?”

The Doctor smiled sagely. “Weellll, let’s just say that if I told you that… it probably wouldn’t be good for your health. And what is the top speed she can reach…?”

“Fully loaded up to Time Distort 7.5 sir – so pretty fast.”

“Indeed,” the Doctor said smiling. “So, show me around then. I understand the hold on these can be a little cramped?”

“No sir, not at all, indeed we’re just in the process of loading the last of the... er… chemicals we had in storage. Would you like to see sir?”

Patting his pocket appreciatively the Doctor nodded.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap. Life just got in the way. Hope everyone is still safe and well. :-)

Servalan scowled unseen. Riker's reaction to the silly girl proved that she’d miscalculated and underestimated just how much Dayna had got under the Commanders skin. Servalan knew that if she had any hope of getting out of there alive, either with or without a powerful Dalek ally then she needed to act, and carefully. Being too hasty now, would likely involve further suspicion. She needed time to think.

Forcing herself to appear concerned Servalan dropped to her knees beside Riker, deliberately moving so it would make it difficult for the cameras to make out what she was saying. “We’re being monitored,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

“I thought as much,” Riker confirmed without bothering to look at the woman he knew as Sleer. “Her family?” he prompted.

Servalan reached out to pat at one of Dayna’s hands.

“Don’t do that; don’t bring her round for this, if it's bad news, she doesn't need to hear it yet. What happened? Truthfully now,” Riker said firmly.

Servalan shot Riker a look of surprise.

“You don’t get be a First Officer without having some ability to read people,” Riker responded steadily. His expression showing just how much she’d misread him too.

Servalan held it for a beat before she shrugged. “Oh very well,” she said, her voice losing any hint of playfulness which might have been lingering. “I don’t know alright. I have no idea what's happened to her family. They could be perfectly safe for all I know. We walked further up the tunnel, with the younger girl chattering non-stop. I… she was getting on my nerves. The tunnel widens out fractionally just before the steps…”

Riker nodded. “Yes,” he agreed simply. “So you left them there.”

“I did.” Servalan agreed. “I was no more than a couple of hours behind you. They were waiting for me when I came through the hatch.”

“Her family didn’t follow?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Certainly, no one attempted to rescue me.”

Riker nodded. “You call this a rescue?”

“You’re alive aren’t you?”

“What about Dayna?”

Servalan sighed and shot Riker a look. “Seriously, what is it with her?”

“She saved my life.”

“Yes, and now I’m trying to save yours.”

“Not at the expense of hers,” Riker said firmly.

“Really?”

“Yes really, so your plan, whatever it maybe needs to involve both of us, or I want no part of it.”

“What makes you think I’ve got a plan?” Servalan asked curiously.

Turning away from Dayna briefly, Will Riker offered Servalan a lopsided smile, which didn’t reach his eyes in any way. “Your fingernails,” he suggested softly.

Puzzled Servalan looked down at her hands, they were mostly clean, just a tiny bit dirty and dusty where she had reapplied the dirt and dust back to herself after changing back into her disgusting outer clothes. In that respect, her hands looked much the same as Riker and Dayna’s – except where Rikers and Dayna’s fingernails were dirty and chipped mapping out their experiences to date, her nails were clean and nicely shaped, suggesting she'd had time to stop and take care of herself at some point. It was a schoolgirl error; Servalan chided herself silently for the slip.

“You can’t blame a girl for trying," she offered.

“Do you have a way out of here?”

“Not exactly.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

The random light patterns on Avon and Data’s cube were not random at all.

Or rather, they were but had been designed that way. The tracing lights were just one small aspect of the cube, deliberately constructed to be flashy, noisy, and absurd. Left to their own devices both Data and Avon created elegant, functional equipment that was both aesthetically pleasing in both form and function. This cube bore none of their usual classic elegance.

Noisy, humming faintly, with a distinctive whirring noise and lots of flashing lights, it looked like a very badly designed gaudy toy. 

It was, however, a very sophisticated device, with a duel purpose.

The first design feature had been to amplify Data’s own inbuilt GPS/homing device, installed following an incident with a Zibalian trader Kivas Fajo.

The second feature of the cube was that it was tuned to Orac’s internal carrier wave frequency, a secret communication channel known only to Orac, Blake, and Avon. The hoped was that if the_ Enterprise _failed to locate them, then Orac would.

As long as the signal could escape, the forcefield that currently held them captive.

Both Avon and Data had quickly realised that they probably would only get one chance to escape, Avon recognising the scenario from the many times he’d needed to escape his Federation and various detention facilities; Data through his Starfleet training. 

While Picard, La Forge, Avon, and Donna were rendered unconscious by the Daleks transportation method, Data had not been so affected. He had simply ‘played dead’ and used the opportunity it afforded to take note of where they were being taken aboard the Dalek vessel, and run through as many different scenarios to escape as he could. By himself, his options were limited; however, if a joint effort would improve the odds significantly. In the normal course of events, Data would have conversed with Picard and La Forge and they would have worked together. Several factors stopped this. The first fact that the Dalek’s had already noticed the uniforms they were wearing, and from an overheard conversation, Data knew they were being thoroughly monitored.

The second was the fact that Data had been thoroughly intrigued both with Orac’s abilities to tamper with the _Enterprise’s_ systems and had recognised Avon’s talents and connections to Orac.

By working outside the box, Data hoped to confuse his captors, at least enough to get a signal out to someone.

Donna’s meticulously crushed polycarbonate plastic would prove to be a key link in the chain, for Avon and Data had built not one, but two devices, from the many triple and quadruple backup components built into Data. The second device was barely bigger than a little fingernail and less than a millimetre in-depth, but like its flashy brother, it too needed to get outside the dampening field all around them.

It was hoped the Daleks would lower the forcefield to see to Avon, and then either destroy the first cube or take it away for inspection. Either way, their actions should give Picard enough time to scatter the ultra-shiny plastic dust around the base of the forcefield in the confusion. It was then hoped that the microscopic particles would hold the forcefield open long enough, once the Daleks had gone, for the second disc to be pushed beyond the barrier, and their signal/s to be activated.

Hence Avon having deliberately allowed the pain in his leg to get the better of him so he could howl effectively for help, unwittingly aided by Donna, who had twisted the still recovering broken limb, causing real pain.

“Whoooweeee… that was… that was… was…” The Doctor said talking nineteen-to-the-dozen as he entered the Tardis on a run, having scooped Mialy up on his way out of the hangar bay.

“…fun wasn’t it!”

The tour of the T22 had proved to be rather boring. With Captain Thomas once more acting as a guide, the Doctor had little to no chance to add the antidote to the Pylene 48.7 he’d made.

The ship was busy with service personnel continuing to carry both equipment and supplies aboard her at a rapid rate. The Doctor resisted rolling his eyes as he was escorted into yet another crew area and was thinking that he’d need to manufacture a distraction when one appeared in the form of an explosion.

“All units report, the intruders have broken through to this level, troupers converge on sector 6B, we can not allow them too…”

Captain Thomas had excused himself rapidly and left the Doctor alone, after the Time Lord’s repeated reassurances that he would be all right.

Thankfully, Thomas’ extremely dull tour of the transport ship had given the Doctor a good idea of its layout, finding the main cargo bay and adding his concoction to the huge vat of Pylene had taken just a few minutes. The Doctor had then left the T22 quickly and disappeared into the rest of the panicked personnel milling about.

Mialy had been in the service corridor leading up to the stairs, and so the Doctor had grabbed her hand as he’d torn past her at several miles an hour.

They had been running ever since, dodging both troupers and the Borg until they reached the Tardis.

Out of breath and breathing heavily, Mialy had watched in some bemusement while the Doctor unlooked the Tardis and quickly pushed her inside, before entering himself and leaning against the doors with relief. “What good is a broom cupboard going to be…? Oh….”

“Oh, we’re a little bigger than a broom cupboard I would think?” The Doctor suggested, waving a hand towards the vast expanse of the main console room.

Mialy barely registered what she was seeing before she turned to the Doctor and smiled. “Is it always like this with you around?” she asked still a little breathless.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

“Lots of running and narrow escapes; just so I know for the future…”

“Oh yes,” the Doctor grinned. “Every time.”

“Ohhhh the Doctor has a new girlfriend!”

The sound of giggling caused the Doctor to spin round towards the children and teenagers, giving them a lopsided grin and mock bow. “Oi! That’s enough of that you lot!” he reprimanded them, though he was smiling as he turned to Mialy and held out his hand. “Come on I’ll introduce you.”

Mialy smiled back and held out her hand until she watched the Doctors face fall and his expression darken.

Having smiled at his youngest passengers, the Doctor had pushed away from the Tardis door and given them a 360° turn, which had caused him to notice Avalon, Jenna, and Deva. It took him a few seconds to process what he had seen.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Mialy asked turning to see what had caught the Doctors attention. “Avalon, what are you doing here?” she continued catching sight of the rebel leader.

She made to take a step towards her when the Doctor put out a hand to stop her.

“Don’t,” he said simply.

The Tardis had protected herself by raising her forcefields around her flight controls and instrument panels. Jenna, Avalon, and Deva had been stuck where they’d been for several hours now.

And while the forcefields might have been invisible to human eyes, they were not to a Timelord. The shields around the Time Rota and on the gangway to the upper deck glowed radiantly to the Doctor.

“Don’t what, I don’t understand. Aren’t we all friends here?” Mialy said pulling herself free and trying to walk towards Avalon. “I had no idea you’d be here, did the Doctor rescue you too?” she asked approaching the first of the forcefields.

“I wouldn’t if I were you….” Vila interjected entering the flight deck from sickbay.

The jolt of the forcefield knocked Mialy off her feet.

“…it can give you a nasty jolt,” Vila finished, moving to offer the young girl a hand up which she took gratefully.

Scowling the Doctor drew closer too. “What happened?” he asked the thief.

“You’ve made it back then?” Vila suggested.

The Doctor smiled, “Yes, weelll, there were a couple of hairy moments, I fell through the floor at one point, was mistaken for a psychostrategist and managed to nix a rather nasty little substance called Pylene 48.7… ran away from a few Borg… but yes I made it.”

“Good I’m glad.” Blake agreed having followed Vila from sickbay too.

“You’ll be pleased to know that Docholli, Payton, and Moss are doing ok so far.”

The Doctor nodded. “Yes, that is indeed good news, I’m pleased to hear it.”

“Deanna and Fargus are most impressed with your ship, it seems she is remarkable,” Blake continued.

The Doctor nodded once more, his stance relaxing. “That she is,” he agreed, reaching out to pat one of the main coral struts linking the floor to the ceiling of the great room. He felt the Tardis thrum her pleasure at his touch as wisps of relief brushed against the outer edges of his mind.

It took some time for his companions and some of the other people he’d travelled with to realise that the Tardis was not only alive, but she was sentient too, and more than capable of defending herself should the occasion arise, as it obviously had now.

Vila looked at the Doctor nervously. “The kids are doing well,” he started, attempting to change the subject.

“They’ve all been fed, and well… as you can see they’re settled down for the night….Er… You know if I didn’t know better I would have said some of the rooms moved, just to make it easier for them to find things like the bathroom, ooh and a games room and a library... and…”

“You’re not really helping Vila,” Blake said gently.

“I just you know wanted to say thank you, and that we’re not all… like, ungrateful…”

The Doctor drew a breath, although Vila took some getting used to, he believed his heart to be in the right place and had already learned he hated confrontations. “Thank you, Vila, you’re doing a good job,” he said warmly patting the younger man on one shoulder, therefore, before drawing him off to one side and lowering his voice.

“Has the Tardis showed you where I keep my chocolate and jelly babies yet?”

Vila’s eyes grew wide. Chocolate was a rarity in his world. “You have chocolate?” he asked with an eager, dreamy look on his face.

“Doesn’t everyone?” the Doctor said looking half-bemused, half-guilty at the excitement he could see in Vila’s face.

“Not where I come from they don’t, it’s a luxury. I was once sentenced to six months just for nicking a little bit from someone’s dessert… would have ended up in jail too, if I’d not picked the lock and escaped out the window.” Vila said earnestly.

The Doctor looked at Vila to see if he was having his leg pulled, but the expression on Vila’s face convinced him otherwise. “Oh all right,” he said with a sigh. “In the library, second bookshelf, seventh shelf up, you may need a pair of steps, there’s a small safe. The combination is…”

“It’s in a safe?” Vila’s face glowed with delight.

The Doctor grinned; Vila’s happiness was catching. “Yeahhhh, well I have to make it hard for me to get at… too much sugar not good for the teeth you know. So the combination is…”

“No, don’t tell me, that’s half the fun of it,” Vila said excitedly.

“Are you sure? It’s got a bit of a trick to it, you have to…”

“Noooo, please don’t tell me. Just let me try, please…”

“Er, ok, if you really want to, just leave me some ok?” the Doctor agreed a tad bemused.

Nodding eagerly Vila offered the Doctor a huge grin and practically flew off in the direction of the Library.

Blake looked after him. “What did you say to him?” he asked curiously.

The Doctor scratched the back of his head in bemusement. “I er, I told him where I kept my chocolate,” he offered.

“You have chocolate?” Blake said raising an eyebrow.

“Well yes, I thought it was normal,” the Doctor complained.

“Chocolate chocolate?” Mialy queried drawing closer. “I’ve heard about it. You have to be rich to buy it though…”

“Seriously?” The Doctor said now thoroughly perplexed.

“What is everyone talking about?” Troi asked joining the group. She’d become concerned when neither Blake nor Vila had returned, knowing that Avalon, Jenna and Deva were trapped and that the Doctor had returned.

She was half expecting some kind of trouble, but that was not the emotion, which greeted her, that was a mix of excitement and puzzlement.

“Chocolate,” Blake said shortly. “The Doctor has a secret stash.”

“I am glad to hear it, chocolate has many known health benefits,” Deanna suggested, “including lowering blood pressure and reducing stress. You can’t beat a chocolate Sundae with hot chocolate sauce and white chocolate sprinkles in my opinion. It might be good to give the kiddies some, just a small bit, they might find it soothing…, not too much though, and they should brush their teeth afterwards of course.”

The Doctor grinned, while both Blake’s and Mialy’s eyes widened.

Blake turned to Deanna. “Don’t tell me, chocolate isn’t rare in your universe either?”

“No of course not. Some is better than others of course, but it’s easy enough to replicate…”

Avalon stared at the people stood not more than a couple of feet away from her, in the middle of a war zone talking about chocolate. She had seen the look of anger cross the Doctor’s face when he’d caught sight of her and had primed herself to respond to the inevitable questions and recriminations, but instead she, Jenna and Deva had been ignored.

Avalon wasn’t sure what to make of the Doctor, she’d found him almost impossible to read from the start. She came up short when she realised she didn’t know what to expect from him now, and found to her dismay, that while she didn’t regret her actions, and knew she’d probably be asked to leave, she didn’t want to go.

With Deanna and Blake in the middle of a discussion on chocolate, the Doctor casually wandered over to the Time Rota, his expression once more turning serious. “I’m not quite sure you’d make it to your ship if I dropped you off here,” the Doctor said slowly, his dark eyes registering both his disappointment and his hurt at their betrayal. “The environment out there is rather hostile at the moment, but I’m not sure if it’s better here.”

“I can explain,” Avalon offered.

Mialy who’d followed the Doctor looked at her leader in surprise. She’d never heard Avalon try to defend her actions before.

The Doctor casually walked through the forcefield's as if they didn’t exist, and for him, they didn’t. “Go on then,” he challenged, meeting Avalon’s gaze briefly before turning his attention to the Tardis controls, resetting the instrument panels as he slowly walked around the Time Rota, ignoring the second forcefield which had sprung up around her controls.

Mialy tried to follow the Doctor and found she couldn’t. Both she and Avalon looked at the Doctor in surprise.

“Doctor?” she queried.

The Doctor appeared to weigh up his thoughts for a few moments, before walking back down the step to the floor of the Tardis where the outer forcefield began.

With a smile, he extended his hand through it, “Oh all right, come on then," he offered.

Mialy passed through the outer and second forcefields as if they didn’t exist, as Avalon, Jenna, Diva, Deanna, Blake and the children who were watching saw in amazement.

“Now, don’t touch anything,” the Doctor instructed her.

“I won’t, promise,” the young scientist agreed.

The Doctor turned back to Avalon. “You were saying?”

“Yes! I’m not going to apologise for trying to take over though, with a ship like this, we could win. We could travel to the heart of the Federation, return to Earth, depose the President, and take back control. We can give people back their lives. Don’t you see how much good we could do?”

The Doctor appeared to think about Avalon’s words. “And who’ll form this new government? You?” he asked casually, reaching through the final forcefield and once more, toggling switches and resetting controls.

Avalon drew a breath, “Well, that would be up to the people. We would hold democratic elections, where everyone could vote for who they wanted to lead them.”

“And they’d have a leader that feels they can justify stealing other people’s property?”

“The good of the many outweigh the good of the few,” Avalon quoted.

“Oh please, that’s the usual nonsense spouted by tyrants to justify their decisions.” The Doctor said scornfully.

“We don’t need to justify ourselves to you, or anyone,” Deva said coming to stand in line with Avalon, in her defence.

The Doctor took a step and held out his hands. “Nope, you don’t, certainly not to me. I’ll drop you off at the first planet we come to, and you can make your way from there.”

“We need to get to Earth.”

“Not with me and not in the Tardis you won’t.” The Doctor said firmly and then turned to Jenna. 

Jenna drew a breath. “I’m sorry; it wasn’t right what we tried to do. If you put us off your ship, you have that right, only you should know, that the others wanted no part of it, not Blake or Vila, or the rest, only the four of us…”

“Jenna!” Avalon said outraged.

“It’s only right and proper that we should own up. Fargus was in with us too, only the forcefield’s erected themselves before he made it up here,” Jenna said honestly.

The Doctor nodded. “Thank you,” he said deactivating the forcefield’s which had kept everyone in place.

“We’ll go and get our things,” Jenna offered.

The Doctor nodded once more and went back to sorting out the settings on the Time Rota.

“You’re not going to let them go are you?” Mialy asked looking at the Doctor in dismay. “It’s not safe out there.”


	31. Chapter 31

Orac now knew that the Daleks were aware of Avon. They either held him or had gleaned enough information from Servalan to know that he was part of the  _ Liberators _ crew. Tuning out the threats given once more by the Inquisitor Dalek, Orac went to work to see if Avon had been captured, or the Dalek’s threat to exterminate him was an attempt at intimidation.

There were layers upon layers of encryption and multidimensional code built into the security cameras in the prisoner’s holding cells. Many were occupied. There were several races that Orac didn’t recognise, a great many bipedal races, and several human-looking prisoners. Orac was struck by one individual who was wearing authentic 1940’s RAF military clothing. Sitting on the edge of his bunk, he was fiddling with some kind of instrument attached to his wrist with leather strapping. Orac would not have paused in his search for Avon if the instrument hadn’t produced a weird energy signal. Orac made a mental note of the cell in which the presumed human sat, and then continued his search for Avon.

Avon was not in any of the regular prison cells, but there were other areas covered by security cameras. Orac began a methodical search of those as well. In this manner, Orac discovered the four main hangers of the Dalek saucer, their engineering facilities, their vast genetics laboratories, and the simple slave quarters where they kept the humanoids forced to serve them. 

He was an uninvited guest in their weapons facility and listened in to their subspace communications.

There was still no sign of Avon however.

Orac had begun to think that the Inquisitor Dalek had been playing him false when he came across the security feed from the control room. He’d had to break several difficult encryption locks on that one, including one, which seemed to be built around the relativity of time and supposed theoretical dimensions. It had taken Orac, 32.27 seconds to crack the code and then he found himself looking down on Caan himself.

_ “What is it they are building?”  _

_ Caan asked. _

_ “I can not see. The object is unknown.” _

_ “Give me a close up on the object,” Caan demanded. _

“If the Federation records are corrupt as you have claimed. Where can we find accurate knowledge of this system and its inhabitants?” the Inquisitor Dalek asked Orac. The Inquisitor had continued to repeat the same variations of its request to Orac as Orac continued its search for Avon. “Where are their central records located?

Orac occasionally tuned into the conversation he was having with the armoured creature, but most of the time he didn’t bother to listen. However, as now, something in the relentless questions caught his attention or amusement.

“The repository for all Federation knowledge, including troop movements, its citizens, planetary alliances, cryptocurrency and weather systems were located in Star One,” Orac told the Inquisitor.

“Were located?”

“Are you able to scan outside this vessel?”

“To what purpose?”

“You will kindly answer my question first…” Orac said snippily and ignored the Inquisitor once more, turning its attention to the visual feeds that Caan had asked for.

He saw a still image of the cube Avon and Data had constructed. There were no twinkling lights, whirring sounds or discernible humming, however, Orac knew immediately that Data at least had had a hand in its construction as he recognised some of the small Starfleet parts.  A closer examination was needed… and yes… didn’t that look like some of Avon’s handiwork too?

Orac’s thoughts flew faster than the speed of sound as he zeroed in on the image, what Caan was now saying. It became imperative to see what Caan was looking at. It took Orac precious seconds to find a second and then third camera which was able to see into the control room.

A flash of blue and red on the screen was all Orac could see before the screen view changed to the display the cube again. Orac replayed the scene, freeze-framing the images, once screen at a time. Data, Picard and Avon immediately came into view.

_ “Identity,” Caan said looking at Avon’s square cube. _

_ “Object is unknown.” _

_ “Acquire the object, we must know what they are planning,” Caan demanded. _

_ “I obey,” the aid said moving away. _

Another Dalek replaced the aid. This one, one of the pair which had thrown Servalan into Riker and Dayna’s cell, though Orac was, of course, unaware of that fact. Orac was almost completely focussed on following the aid back to Avon and the  _ Enterprise _ crew, so he almost didn’t quite stop to see the conversation which followed…

… but then he did…

_ “What is the progress with the human?”  _

_ Caan said turning to look at the picture containing Servalan, Riker, and Dayna.  _

_ Dayna remained on the floor with Riker crouched beside her. “Has the male divulged the location of the Doctor?” _

_ “No. He is more concerned with the condition of the second female.” _

_ “What is the condition of the second female?” _

_ “She is unconscious.” _

_ “Is she injured?” _

_ “Unknown. _

_ “Remove her from the isolation cell. If she is able, send her to work with the other slaves on the planet below, otherwise, exterminate her.” Caan pronounced. _

_ “I obey.” _

Orac didn’t recognise Dayna of course, but he knew Servalan and had seen images of Riker aboard the  _ Enterprise _ ** ** so realised that he needed to keep track of them too.

“The surrounding area of space has been scanned,” the Inquisitor Dalek told Orac.

“And what conclusion did you reach?” Orac queried, continuing to follow the Dalek who had been talking to Caan, having made a note of the hieroglyphic beneath his eyestalk as a way of identification.

“Our scans suggest the wreckage of many ships in this sector. The only possible conclusion is that this was the location of a space battle.”

“In that you are correct. This was the area of space containing Star One,” Orac said a touch smugly.

The Dalek’s blue eye looked at the plastic box of lights. “Your use of the past tense indicates that Star One is no longer in existence.”

“You are correct,” Orac agreed. “And now if you will excuse me, I’m terribly busy at the moment.”

Time was running out for the bridge crew. The two hours they’d bought themselves from oscillating the frequencies within the forcefields had been brought down to a scant 40 minutes after the Daleks had detonated multiple charges against them. Barclay, McRobb, Ballard, Chang and O’Brian hoped they had a workaround that would cut off the Daleks supply of electrostatic charge – their main power source, but it would take time to set up, just as solving the conundrum had cost precious minutes too. Barclay estimated he would need at least half an hour to set up the positive ion charge, but the Dalek would be on the bridge in approximately twenty minutes.

If they were going to get to the Battle Bridge in time, utilizing the service tunnels behind the ships mainframe computers on the upper deck of the Main Bridge, they needed to leave now.

“You need to go too Dr, er Captain,” Chang said firmly.

“Not a chance. As the acting First Officer you should go, along with Dr Selar, Lt’s McRobb, Barnaby, Ballard and of course Barclay,” Crusher replied with equal force. “My job is to remain here on the bridge.”

“No Captain, with all due respect it is not.”

“A Captain needs to stand firm.”

“Exactly my point ma’am. Your place is not here on the bridge, the whole crew of the  _ Enterprise  _ needs you. You are the highest-ranking officer with Bridge Command experience, not to mention the CMO of this ship. To put it plainly, we can not afford to lose you with Captain Picard and Commanders Riker, Data, Worf, Troi and La Forge no longer on board. If we were to lose you too, then I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you how that would affect crew morale?” Chang argued back. “Lt Selar help me out here please?”

“Lt Chang is right Captain; you need to leave the bridge as soon as you can.” 

Selar agreed.

“Which is about now,” McRobb said having worked the service panel loose.

Beverly Crusher drew a breath. She was not happy, but she recognised the sense of Chang’s words. “All right then, Barnaby if you would lead the way, Mc Robb….”

“I should be the last to go, sir; I can perhaps set a few diversions that will mask our presence…” McRobb suggested.

“Very well. Lt Barclay, then you Lt Ballard, then me, then you Lieutenant if you’re sure…?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I’ll stand by the battle Bridge turbolift with Marksham and Solis,” Chang volunteered.

“Which will leave me with Allenby, Anya, and Dr Selar,” Miles added. “We’ll stand by the conference room doors for when the forcefield is down.

“Speaking of which… I’ve had a thought… I carry a few of these,” Reg said digging into a pocket of his overalls, “simple flash/bang charges… they enable joints to be fused together sometimes…” he added when the crew gave him an odd look. “If… if we set the timer on a couple… they would detonate as the forcefield comes down and may just distract the Dalek long enough for us all to get away.”

“Excellent idea Reg, make it so,” Crusher agreed then flapped her hand when several eyebrows were raised at the use of Picard’s catchphrase.

Orac, having found mention of Servalan by Caan, and now having access to Dalek Control, systematically began to review all the conversations that Dalek Caan had held in the last several hours. In that way, Orac learned that Servalan disliked Dayna intensely and had more or less given leave for her either to be turned into a slave of the Dalek workforce or else exterminated. While Orac didn’t know Dayna, it did have its own aversion to the Supreme Commander and Federation President and would be perfectly content to throw a spanner in the work, or two.

Orac was no able to remove the forcefield around himself, or anyone else, but he was able to affect the tensile and resistant strength of them; hence, the one surrounding him was now virtually impregnable, and had been locked out of Dalek control. In the same manner, Orac narrowed down to the area where Riker, Dayna, and Servalan were being held and treated their own forcefield to the same treatment. 

Orac’s thoughts flew faster than the Dalek’s could move, so it sat back to watch what would happen next, while it waited for the Dalek heading in the direction of Avon and the group from the  _ Enterprise _ , to reach its destination.

“You will stand and move away from the human female.”

Riker looked up at the sound of the Dalek’s voice. “She needs help. Do you have a doctor?” he asked, repeating an earlier request.

Servalan huffed. “Don’t be so silly Will. If she’s ok, she won’t be harmed, she’ll only be taken back down to the planet to her people. Come now, don’t make a fuss.”

Riker turned his head to look from the Dalek to Servalan. “You knew about this?”

“Well, I…”

“You knew about this and didn’t say anything?”

“Well… it’s not like I could change the outcome.”

Abruptly things fell into place for Riker. Servalan’s sudden appearance and her attempt to diminish Dayna’s worth.  “Could you not? This was your plan all along wasn’t it?”

“Move away from the forcefield. Lower the forcefield. Stand back,” the Dalek commanded.

“You’re not taking her,” Riker said, not budging one inch.”

“Will…” Undaunted by Riker’s earlier words, Servalan touched his arm and attempted to move him away from Dayna. 

Riker shrugged Servalan’s arm away. “It’s Commander Riker, and I will not leave her.”

“The forcefield will be lowered. Stand away from the female,” the Dalek said again and moved forward, a couple of feet; it collided with the forcefield and bounced back. “Arrrghhh.”

Riker looked at the Dalek in surprise, one eyebrow rising.

“Deactivate forcefield,” the Dalek said again. It had been protected from the energy surge that had knocked Dayna unconscious earlier thanks to the Dalek casing, but it had still felt an unpleasant jolt of electricity. Once more, the Dalek moved forward and again it hit the forcefield and bounced back with another distressed gurgle.

Riker smirked. “It seems you’re having a little trouble there,” he suggested.

“Emergency, emergency, forcefield malfunction, forcefield malfunction,” the Dalek cried loudly.

Another Dalek appeared from a different direction from the first.

“The forcefield has malfunctioned,” the first Dalek told the second. “Identify malfunction and rectify.”

“I obey,” the second agreed, looking the humans up and down a couple of times, its blue eye pulsing, before vanishing from where it came.

“Move away from the female. You are required to surrender the location of the Doctor,” the first Dalek continued unphased.

Dayna stirred. Opening her eyes, she groaned as she attempted to sit up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you… just be careful, you may feel a touch dizzy,” Riker offered with a smile.

“I have a headache,” Dayna agreed.

“The human female will stand and move away from the male,” the Dalek said warningly.

Both Dayna and Riker apparently ignored it. “What happened?” she asked him.

“You er… collided with a forcefield, which they now apparently can’t lower. Where that leaves us I’m not quite certain,” Riker suggested.

Beverly Crusher forced herself to hold back and not comment, but she swore to herself that if they made it out of this current situation and things got back to normal then she would recommend Lt Ballard take up exercise classes. 

The young teacher may have been blessed with a slim figure, but she evidently wasn’t blessed with a supple one.

“You know, Deanna and I join Worf in a callisthenics class every Thursday. 

We’ve been thinking of opening it up to more of the crew, do you think you’d be interested?” she asked as she was once again presented with the teacher's rearview and the half sob of,  _ I can’t do this for _ the umpteenth time.

The space inside the service tunnel wasn’t particularly cramped or long, but it did twist and turn quite lot, and Ballard seemed to tire easily. 

Crusher was just relieved she’d ordered Barclay to go in front of the teacher. He should be exiting soon and would be able to make his way to the battle bridge and start work.

“I don’t think I’d be any good at it,” Ballard responded with half a sob.

“Nonsense, if you can do this, you’ll be brilliant,” Crusher said bracingly.

“But that’s the whole point… I don’t think I can do this…” Ballard pointed out.

“Of course you can,” Crusher encouraged.

“You’re almost halfway there,” McRobb suggested from behind Crusher. “Another couple of yards and the tunnel opens out into a bigger area. I believe Captain Picard and Lt Darren used it a couple of time when trying to find a place to play their music, as the acoustics are great. From there, you can hear much of the ship.”

“Really, I didn’t know that?” Crusher said thinking of the Captain and the Lieutenant.

“Yeah, not something I’d normally talk about, but it’d also make a great place to take the kids on a field trip, wouldn’t you think Lieutenant? 

If you go just a bit further and turn right you’ll see it,” the acting Chief Engineer encouraged.

“What oh,” Picard said softly, as Caan’s subordinate came into view. “It’s back.”

Avon’s groans grew much louder.

“Over here quickly, this man needs a doctor,” Picard called to the Dalek.

The Dalek’s blue eye took in Avon but it made no further comment as it drew close.

Donna looked nervously at the Dalek but stood her ground next to Avon. 

“Did you hear what he said? This man needs a Doctor?” she said firmly.

“Where is the Doctor?” the Dalek prompted, drawing closer.

“Not the Doctor, a doctor, like a medical doctor, you know?” Donna tried again.

“Give us the location of the Doctor.”

“I don’t know all right, do you think I’d be here if I did. Please, you need to help.”

Picard moved to pat Donna’s hand, wondering if she remembered that they were trying to lure the Dalek closer. “It’s ok,” he offered.

“No, it’s not. It’s really not,” Donna argued.

“You will stand back from the forcefield,” the Dalek announced. “Deactivate the forcefield.”

Surreptitiously, Data and Picard got ready with the second phased chip and polycarbonate dust.

Orac found them on the overhead camera.

The Dalek glided forward. “Stand back,” it instructed, still moving.

Both Data and Geordi watched in fascination and bemusement at the Dalek hit the still active forcefield, with predictable results.

“Right then Vila, let’s see if we can’t find this ship of yours,” the Doctor said programming the Tardis to search the area of space where the Liberator had last been found. Avalon and her crew sat silently up against a wall nearby, Blake and Deanna beside them.

“What if you can’t find it?” Vila worried.

“Ohhh, I shouldn’t worry about that, this old girl knows a trick or three,” the Doctor reassured. “Press that button over there, and we should be ready to go… allons y!”

Ten seconds later the Borg ship abruptly left the Federation Mutoid Factory in hot pursuit.


	32. Chapter 32

“Wait, what just happened there?” Geordi asked watching electronic ripples move up the forcefield and dissipate, just like ripples on a pond.

“Deactivate forcefield,” Caan’s aid screeched immediately and once more attempted to gain access to the prisoners, and bounded off the forcefield. “Arrrghhh…”

Unable to help herself, Donna winced. “I don’t understand, what is happening?” she asked.

“There is a malfunction in the forcefield. You will desist immediately. Desist your activities or you will be exterminated,” the Dalek replied.

Picard shared a look with Data.

Data shook his head, briefly glancing towards his right hand where the second microdevice was hidden. He had yet to activate it. “I do not believe so,” he told the Captain softly.

“You will release the forcefield or you will be exterminated,” Caan’s aid tried again, moving his eyestalk up and down threateningly along with his weapon arm. “Deactivate forcefield.”

Geordi and Data both looked expectantly at the forcefield. While it remained invisible to Picard, Donna and Avon, they, of course, having electronically enhanced sight could see it’s shimmering outline easily. And as far as they could tell, it looked no different to the way it had looked a few moments ago.

“You’re not doing this are you?” Geordi asked his friend. “I mean the thing you built – is it capable of doing this?”

“No, that was never its function,” Data confirmed.

“Really?” Geordi asked confused. 

Data nodded.

“Emergency, Emergency, the forcefield is malfunctioning,” Caan’s aide insisted.

Another Dalek came into view. “Dalek Caan wishes to know if you have retrieved the device from the prisoners?” it told the aide.

“There is a malfunction in the forcefield,” the aide replied.

“Deactivate the forcefield,” the second Dalek suggested and moved forward, almost brushing aside the first, only to collide hard with the barrier, moving at full speed as it had been. The second Dalek screeched it’s dismay, moving backwards and turning his head almost completely round to talk to the first Dalek. “There is a malfunction in the forcefield,” it announced.

“I concur, the forcefield is malfunctioning,” Caan’s aide agreed.

Donna looked at Picard. “Is it me, or do they like to repeat things a lot?” she suggested softly, her eyes wide and alert as she took in the agitated Daleks.

Picard nodded. “Hmm, just a little. Avon, do you know what’s going on? Is this part of the plan?” he asked, keeping his voice as low as Donna’s to afford as much privacy as possible, very aware of the security cameras trained on them at all times.

“No,” Avon agreed shortly, and offered a groan, just in case anyone was listening.

“Hmmm, most curious.” Looking over his shoulder Picard beckoned Geordi closer. “It’s not us,” he whispered to his Chief Engineer as La Forge crouched down beside him.

"Yeah, Data's just said as much. I wonder what's going on in that case."

"I'm not sure, but get ready to use any advantage it gives us."

"Yes sir, I'll make sure Data knows as well."

Having watched the prisoners conversing, the second Dalek glanced up at the ceiling where the cameras were indeed trained, hoping that Caan would have been able to see the conversation. A veteran of many campaigns, the second Dalek was a lot wiser than the aide. “Cover the prisoners,” it instructed the aide, with a lingering backwards glance as it glided away from the forcefield towards a back panel where the controls for the forcefield were kept. Extending its sucker arm and then manipulator arm, it spent some moments attempting to override Orac’s override, with absolutely no success. It sent a report of its findings to control. 

Caan's aide meanwhile was still attempting to control the situation. Not yet understanding what was happening. “You will lower the forcefield and step back from the object you have constructed. If you do not comply you will be exterminated,” it said threateningly in the meantime, waving its weapon around even more…

“What do we do?” Geordie asked. “Do we let them know we're not doing this, that is if we’re sure we're not?”

“We’re not doing this?” Donna asked in surprise. “I thought this was part of the plan?”

“As much as I would like to take credit for this current scenario, I can not,” Data confirmed.

Donna thumped Avon in one knee. “What about you sunshine?” she demanded.

“Let me remind you that I really was injured,” Avon said in exasperation, fed up with being thumped by Donna.

“Yes, but no one is taking any notice of you, so you may as well sit up now,” Donna said sensibly. 

Avon scowled at Donna and drew a breath to make a scathing retort when Caan’s aide, reached the end of its patience and fired without warning at the forcefield surrounding the prisoners. The beam struck the forcefield at full 'extermination level' strength, just about level with Picard’s head. 

Instinctively everyone ducked, Donna, throwing herself across Avon, while Picard instinctively dived to cover Donna and Geordi ended up on top of them both. Data simply stepped to one side. No one moved for several seconds until the humans realised they were uninjured.

“Gerrrooofff me!” Avon complained unable to free himself from the sudden weight of three bodies upon him.

Caan’s aid fired again, the forcefield lighting up, turning from red, through to orange, yellow, white then blue-white.

Unable to help themselves, Picard, Donna, Geordi and Avon winced.

“The forcefield is holding,” the second Dalek announced watching the progress, noting the prisoner's reactions.

“I concur, Captain,” Data said more formally once the shooting had stopped. “The structure and integrity of the forcefield remain unchanged. It seems it is impervious to Dalek weaponry." 

“We are under attack!” Caan’s aide said shrilly. 

“The forcefield is malfunctioning!” the second Dalek agreed once more.

“Contact security. Send for an engineer, this needs to be rectified.”

“I Obey…”

Data gave Avon a hand up as he shook himself free of Donna’s help, Picard and Geordi already brushing down their uniforms.

Caan’s eyestalk pulsed as it moved rapidly, glancing between all the various monitors, but especially those containing members of the  _ Enterprise c _ rew, the Doctor’s known associates. Analysing what he was seeing, reading the report it had just received from the second Dalek and making several decisions at once, Caan prepared to issue further instructions when all the monitors in the control room abruptly died.

Caan looked at them for several seconds. “Report,” he bellowed finally, the single electronically enhanced word seeming to reverberate around the control room.

Several Daleks immediately appeared in response to his call.

“We are under attack. Restore function to the monitors. Find the perpetrator and bring him to me.”

Unseen, watching from the security feeds, which were not really dead, rather just blocked off, Orac chuckled and set about sabotaging some more...

Acting Captain Doctor Beverly Crusher gingerly sat in the captain’s chair on the Battle Bridge as Barclay crossed the small deck and moved straight across to the Engineering section along with Ballard and McRobb to begin work on their positive ionisation charge.

“Crusher to bridge, we are now in position,” Beverly said calling up a view of the bridge on the battle bridge view screen.

“Acknowledged Doctor, now transferring all control to the Battle Bridge. Authorisation Chang Delta Gamma Seven Two,” Lt Chang confirmed.

“Acknowledged Bridge,” Barnaby confirmed sitting at Ops, watching as the authorisation codes came through.

“Doctor, we have a bit of a situation up here.” Chang continued.

Beverly sighed to herself. “In eight minutes?” she queried

“Yes sir.”

“The Dalek has not broken through?” Beverly said immediately, then corrected herself. “No of course not, we would not be talking if it had. What is the problem Lieutenant?”

“Another three further Daleks have breached our shields on decks 13 and 18.”

“That would be Shuttle Bay’s two, three and four,” McRobb said from Engineering.

“Yes exactly,” Chang agreed. “O'Brien has managed to cordon off those areas with forcefields, but, he doesn’t think they’ll last long, it’ll only be a matter of time before they detonate those ball-like things they carry and breakthrough.”

“I thought the polarisation would render them inert?” Beverly asked.

“Yes sir…” Chang agreed.

However, Beverly Crusher hadn’t finished. “… but it doesn’t react well with organic tissue… and we will now be directing the beam to six separate areas, which is going to make it problematic at best, not to mention one hell of a drain on our power, hence our shields and...”

“Yes sir precisely,” Chang cut in.

“Well, that's it. I’m fresh out of ideas," Beverly admitted. "You seem to have something on your mind Lieutenant, do you have a recommendation?”

“Yes sir, but you’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t think personal preference comes into much, so I’ll take that under advisement, at this point.”

“Yes sir, then I think we need to separate the saucer. There are only 2 Daleks in the saucer section and both are contained. One which will be neutralised when we blow the hatch on the bridge, the same when we blow the main hangar bay. If the saucer is separated and sent out of the battle zone, then we should be able to keep the families safe, while we figure a way to deal with the damn pepper pots once and for all.” Chang suggested. 

Beverly thought about the idea. “Agreed,” she said, heavily, her heart beating fast at the thought of what she was about to do, to Jean-Luc’s precious ship.

“I’ll set the countdown." Chang agreed, and immediately a five-minute disconnection warning started to sound throughout the ship.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Beverly said with a nod. "Computer saucer separation on 5-minute countdown mark - authorisation Alpha Delta 72."

"Thank you, Doctor," Chang agreed. "Sir, I also think you and I should swap places, so you can get the families away to safety.”

Beverly glowered at the viewscreen. "No. Absolutely not."

"Sir I think..."

"We're not having this discussion Lieutenant. This is now a director order. You’re to make for the nearest Starbase and report to Command.” Beverley said firmly.

“But sir, as the ships CMO then you should be with the families…”

“No Lieutenant, as this ships Chief Medical Officer, I will need to stay here. If the forcefields come down before we’re ready, or if the positive ionisation causes any casualties, this is the place I should be.”

“Lt Selar can…”

Beverly sighed. “I appreciate what you are saying but at this ships Acting First Officer I expect you to carry out my commands. Is that clear?”

"Sir."

_ "Saucer separation in 4 minutes 19 seconds. All families and non-essential personnel to their stations on decks one to eight...."  _ the _ Enterprise  _ computer warned.

\+ Information. We are about to pass within 14 parsec’s of grid reference C17320 in the 11th Sector. + Zen stated slowly, his voice booming loud on the flight deck.

It startled Tarrant and Worf from their game of Cross Chess. “I’ll see your Knight Bishop in 3 moves,” Del told Worf rising to his feet to walk over to flight control. “Zen put the object bilaterally adjacent to on-screen,” he continued, looking at the graphs and numbers displayed in front of him.

\+ Confirmed. + Zen agreed.

“Magnify that?”

\+ Confirmed. +

Worf broke off from his contemplation of the linked chess boards to stare at the screen. “What is that?” he queried.

A large piece of rock which appeared to glitter or reflect light slowly tumbled in the centre of the screen, it’s lazy movements belaying its vast size and relative speed.

\+ The object on the centre screen is a fragment of a larger piece of space debris, possibly a class 2 planet or something larger. +

“Can you analyse its composition?” Tarrant asked. “I don’t remember anything out this far.”

\+ Confirmed. 

Analysis suggests that the fragment is from a planet which had a breathable atmosphere at some point in its life. Further calculations suggest that it had a mean temperature just above freezing point only during daylight hours, possibly at the equator. +

Tarrant huffed. “Oh come on, how could you possibly determine that?” he questioned.

“Any planet capable of supporting life would have tiny fragments of DNA clinging to parts of its composition – or so I believe,” Worf rumbled slowly.

\+ Analysis of object is complete. + Zen interrupted.

“That won’t be necessary,” Cally said walking onto the flight deck. I know what that is.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, of course, it’s the remnants of Star One.”

Everyone looked at the screen in front of them. It was a sober thought.

“Zen, slow speed by one half, continuous scanning. Detail any vessel we come across and give us as much warning as possible before we’re visible on their scans,” Cally said sensibly, then turned to Worf. “Now, let’s hope we find your ship somewhere.”

“Indeed.”

\+ Information. I am detecting three ships that have appeared from the dark side of the planetary fragment. +

“What! Put them on visual.” Tarrant cried immediately.

“Battle stations, red alert,” Cally offered. “Zen why were we not informed sooner?”

\+ They remained undetected. +

“… because they were in the shadow of the fragment. Damn it.” Tarrant swore. “Shields up. 

Worf get Portman and D’Son to the bridge, time for a little target practice.“

"Is it usually this bumpy?" Blake asked Deanna, both of them were moving to hold onto the railings around the Time Rota.

"I'm not sure I'm really qualified to answer that," Troi responded with a half-smile, half-grimace, as the floor appeared to drop beneath their feet for several seconds before the Tardis gravity caught up with them again. "I've not been travelling with the Doctor for long."

"You've still been travelling with him longer than I have," Blake pointed out.

"True, then yes... this seems to be par for the course."

Blake ran his free hand through his hair a few times. "Do you think he'd take a dim view of it if I offered him, Jenna, as a pilot?" he queried.

"Seeing as she tried to steal the Tardis away from him, I think there might be a bit of a problem, yes," Troi said, also with a smile.

Both fell silent as the Doctor drew close. "Bracing isn't it?" he asked with a grin. "We should be... well somewhere pretty soon. Do you feel like keeping an eye on things while I just go and check on Vila, make sure he hasn't completely wrecked the library? Urgh, chocolate on books, it's really hard to get rid of the stain you know..."


	33. Chapter 33

The  _ Enterprise _ rocked as the first of the three new Dalek’s activated one of its roundels to explode against the perimeter of McRobb's hastily erected forcefields, just as the acting First Officer had predicted. Crushers fingernails dug into the padded armrests of her chair to prevent herself from falling out, but across the ship, other personnel were not so lucky. Even on the bridge Barclay and McRobb collided with each other as they fought to maintain their footing.

_ “Saucer separation in 39 seconds…” _ The voice of the computer intoned.

“This is the Bridge…”

“This is the Battle Bridge…”

“…damage report,” both Crusher and Chang called out at the same time.

“Er, we’re getting reports of damage to deck 11 cargo bay 2, deck 12 science labs, deck 10 phaser bank system…” Barnaby responded, collating the reports for Crusher faster than Chang’s ensign on the main bridge could manage.

“Damn it, it’s as if they knew where to hit us,” Chang swore looking slightly harassed for the first time. A couple of sparks could be seen fizzing behind her, a crew member rushed to extinguish them.

“Agreed, but how did they know. Have they been able to gain access to our systems? I didn't think we'd let them get that far in.” Crusher replied over the now slightly fuzzy picture of the main bridge. “How many casualties?”

“There are information ports near the bridge," Chang reminded Crusher. "Just getting that report now, three minors in the science labs, two in the phaser bank system. It could be a lot worse, but for the fact that most of our people have been evacuated to their emergency posts,” Chang replied.

"You're not wrong there," Crusher agreed.

_ “Saucer separation in 19 seconds…” _

Another explosion rocked the  _ Enterprise _ , causing it to appear to slip sideways in space.

“Damn it,” Beverly said angrily. “Barclay where are we with that positive ion field of yours?”

“Sir damage report from deck 22, three casualties,” Barnaby cut across. "There's a small fire on 27 which is being brought under control."

“All crew and civilians have reported to their stations,” Chang reported a moment later.

"Barclay?"

“Two…two minutes doctor… maybe less…” Barclay stammered.

"Make it less," Crusher said grimly.

_ “Saucer separation in 3 seconds…” _

The ship reverberated as the huge locking plates which held the two halves of the  _ Enterprise _ released their electromagnetic locks.

The last of the new Daleks roundels exploded.

Everything went dark.

Jenna pushed off from the wall of the Tardis, took a few steps forward and stopped at the foot of the Time Rota, planting her feet far apart, refusing to be moved by the erratic movements of the Doctors ship. The Tardis shuddered and slipped sideways as it swerved at several thousand km to her left.

Alarm bells began to ring.

“What! What now?” The Doctor cried, moving towards one of the monitoring stations and hitting the monitor hard with the heel of his hand several times until the picture cleared. He abruptly typed in several commands on the alien-type keypad below it. “We’re being shot at? Why? What did we do now?”

Blake grabbed the railing beside him once more and offered Jenna his hand as the Tardis slipped again. Jenna took it gratefully and moved to hold onto the railing too. “Who’s shooting at us?” Blake asked mildly. “The Federation?”

“If you mean the one in the factory. Nah, I crippled their ship, they could evacuate, but they wouldn’t have been able to follow us,” the Doctor said casually. “Besides the Tardis is to fast for them. Too fast for most things, no one should be able to keep up with us… Well not for long at any rate.”

“Yet something is,” Jenna ventured.

The Doctor gave her a hard look, before turning back to the screen and typing in more commands to get a look at the other vessel.

“Can you get a visual?” Blake asked reasonably, just as the screen cleared. He watched one of the Doctors eyebrows rise. "You know who they are?"

In reply, the Doctor moved the viewscreen in Blake’s direction.

Deanna standing next to him gasped. “It’s them,” she confirmed turning pale. “The Borg. They’re following us, and once they're on your trail they never let go…”

“We’ll see about that,” the Doctor said grimly, refusing to think or acknowledge anything else.

The Tardis shuddered again as a high power disruptor beam missed them by a hair's breadth.

“Look, time to call it a truce,” Blake suggested.

“You can’t bargain with them,” Deanna said firmly.

“I wasn’t thinking of that. This ship needs another pair of hands, and well Jenna is a good pilot, among other things…”

Jenna gave Blake a quizzical look. “I have to say, Blake, don’t put yourself out too much while you?"

"Well you did attempt to steal the man's ship,” Blake said mildly.

"You may have a point," Jenna conceded.

The Tardis shuddered again.

"Well, Doctor?" Blake demanded

The Doctor looked at Jenna, his expression stern; silence seemed to stretch on for an age, the whirr of the Time Rota the only noise to be heard. Then the Doctor drew a breath and put his hands in his pockets. “Yes alright,” he agreed, abruptly making up his mind. Taking his hands out of his pocket again, he gestured for Jenna to join him. “Come and stand here. Watch that dial, see that it doesn’t get past that, and if it does, push this, this and that in that order, got it?”

The Tardis appeared to tip briefly on its side. The children cried out for the first time, as several of their cushions and pillows rolled away.

“Got it,” Jenna acknowledged, even as Deanna righted herself and took off to look after their young passengers.

“It’s going to be alright,” she offered them, walking into their midst. "Come here and sit down. Why don't I tell you a story?"

The lights went out in the Tardis, leaving the main room in darkness.

Orac looked at the chaos it was causing in the Dalek spaceship and felt very pleased with itself; an emotion that Avon would have disputed Orac could feel, and Data would have envied if it had been possible. All across the ship Daleks and their slaves were working hard to unscramble the circuits and computer codes Orac was continuing to dally with. Orac had deliberately created many worms and self-tapping electronic viruses, that would re-infect and disable any repairs almost as soon as they were complete, before mutating to continue the cycle. Large swathes of the giant saucer were now suffering almost total electronic failures and imminent atmosphere breaches meaning the Daleks were working in the literal dark in some places as the lights went off, or briefly came on, over most of the ship in random sequences, designed to further incapacitate and unnerve them.

Watching the activities through the many electronic eyes that Orac now had sole access too, Orac studied the scene being played out in the area where Avon was being held. The two Daleks in attendance were continuing to fire intermittently at the forcefield surrounding their prisoners, having apparently lost their tempers when they were unable to resolve the situation.

Avon was perfectly safe; Orac had made sure of that. The atmosphere and hull integrity in the areas containing not only Avon, but the other members of the  _ Enterprise _ crew, and the rest of the Dalek’s prisoners was stable and under no immediate threat. Orac was free therefore to study the interactions of the humans in the cell with Avon, and Servalan, and found them both to be interesting and illuminating. 

The Daleks who had been sent to collect Dayna and ‘rescue’ Servalan had long since left the area.

Servalan was having a rough time of things with Riker and Dayna. 

Once Riker and Dayna realised that the Daleks no longer had control of the force field surrounding them, meaning that neither their nor Servalan’s threats meant anything, they, and she became irrelevant.

Servalan’s careful cooperation and collaboration with the Daleks causing the duo to completely ignore her, both in word and deed. Riker and Dayna had deliberately turned their backs on the Supreme Commander and continued with the conversation they’d been having before she arrived. Servalan needed an audience and admirers, deprived of both, and without the ability to cause harm to those ignoring her – she was sitting as far away from the other two as she could get; even her sighs and hangdog expressions failing to raise any sympathy.

Avon was equally not at home. The ploys and mannerisms which Avon would use to cajole Blake and the rest of the  _ Liberator _ crew into either agreeing with him or diametrically opposing him, sometimes just for the fun of it, if Avon were bored, were not working with the current dynamic. While Avon’s undeniable high IQ often made him stand out aboard his own ship; in the company of Picard, Data and Geordi, he was among equals. Donna was a bit of a puzzle to Orac, accordingly, he assigned a small part of one subroutine to study her.

Standing quite close to the forcefield wall Avon continued to watch as the energy from the Daleks weapons caused it to fizzle and crackle, one hand raised as if to catch the vitality of the blue/white currant as it rippled mere centimetres from his nose. “What are we missing?” he mused aloud.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand?” Donna asked, standing next to him looking at the forcefield with far less sangfroid.

“We should be dead,” Avon said flatly.

Donna checked herself. “But we’re not,” she ventured.

“Clearly,” Avon agreed. “But that does not take away from the fact that we should be.”

“Why?”

“See this colour?” Avon said, the flat of his palm almost cupping the centre of the blue/white ripples, caressing the air before it.

“It’s very pretty,” Donna confirmed.

Avon snorted.

“You know, you can be awfully impolite. It’s not a good look on you,” she scolded.

“Is that so?”

“It is, so come on then sunshine, tell me why we should be dead, aside from the obvious fact that them things are continuing to fire at us.”

“It has to do with the colour of the flame,” Data said joining in.

“Blue flames are generally hotter than their yellow, or white companions,” Avon glared.

“Quite so,” Data agreed. “Blue flames signify complete combustion, where there are little to no waste products, for example when one methane (CH4) molecule reacts with exactly two O2 (oxygen) molecules, which forms exactly one CO2 (Carbon Dioxide) and two H2O (Water) molecules.”

Donna tried her best to look intelligent and as if she understood the implication of the statement.

“What Data is trying to say is the process signifies complete combustion since there are no waste products, therefore with the energy of this magnitude being directed towards a mere force field barrier, we should all be toast.” Avon countered.

“Agreed.” Data added. “Therefore some other force must be at work.”

“The Doctor,” Donna squealed in excitement. 

Evidently able to lip read the Daleks twitched to and fro clearly agitated.

“I see no evidence to suggest that,” Data said slowly, looking around them.

“Neither do I,” Avon agreed, “Although as neither of us has met the man, I hardly think that’s conclusive.”

“Indeed,” Data added.

Orac chuckled unseen, the lights inside his clear case flashing in mirth, only it understood. It watched as Data zeroed in on the security camera high above the captives and decided it was time to say hello. Using a language Orac was sure only Data would understand the small light under the camera used to indicate its status flashed in a very sort yet specific sequence. 

128 distinct on/off indices, in sixteen groups of eight, giving the numbers ten, zero four, twenty-three and sixty-two – 10042362, the year the  _ Enterprise  _ was launched.

Data blinked. Given the now suspected ability of the Daleks to read human type lip movements, by blinking faster than the human eye could almost comprehend he sent back four groups of eight on/off indices _ \- 01001111 01110011 01100001 01100011 – O r a c. _

_ 01011001 01100101 01110011 – Y e s _

“What do you know of Binary code?” Data asked Avon, moving so his back would be to the Daleks.

“It was basic binary machine code. I believe it’s been obsolete for several centuries in civilised worlds.”

“Curious. I believe we have a mutual friend who knows it well.”

Avon drew a breath and raised an eye. “Ah, that is… good to know.”

“Force wall raised,” Cally responded, moving to her usual station on the upper deck of the  _ Liberator. _

“Hostiles armed and closing,” Worf reported moving to the tactile station. 

“Portman what is their range?”

“The lead ship is closing fast sir,” Portman said smartly, and then paused, “I’m not sure what range to give you. The readout is saying 11,858.45 something, sir. I’m not sure what means, kilometres, miles or...”

\+ The distance to the lead vehicle is 11, 858.457577 spacials. + Zen intoned.

“I am unfamiliar with a spacial,” Worf growled. “What kind of measurement is that?”

"You don't know what a spacial is?" Cally asked.

"Ah no, now I think of it, didn't we have a conversation..." Tarrant suggested.

\+ Information. One spacial as a unit of measurement is equivalent to 2.6199495 miles or 4.21487 kilometres, old Terran scale. + Zen informed the bridge.

Tarrant and Worf glanced at each other, knowing the kind of math involved was not going to be easy to convert in their heads during a battle.

“Zen is it possible to change the readouts over to Kilometres?” Tarrant asked aloud.

There was no reply. The first hostile appeared in the crosshairs of Worf’s target area, so he fired the  _ Liberators _ neutron blasters towards it regardless of the distance, and missed the electrical discharge falling short of the distance needed. He growled. "This is not going to work."

“Zen I asked you a question?” Tarrant said, diving the ship to the left of the screen as the first hostile ship fired at the _ Liberator  _ in retaliation, and thankfully missed as well.

Zen remained stubbornly silent.

Cally sighed, they, of course, had had that problem before. “Zen, you will continue to answer any and all questions from Worf and his team and Tarrant. Treat them as members of this ship's crew," she instructed.

\+ Confirmed. +

Worf fired at the second ship as it came within his target range. And missed.

“Zen.” Tarrant tried again.

\+ Information. It is possible to offer a compound readout at the bridge stations. +

“Well do it then,” Tarrant yelled as the  _ Liberator _ suffered a glancing blow and the ship shuddered.

\+ Confirmed. +

“Range to the next target is 9.25 km,” Portman told Worf.

“Acquiring target,” the Klingon agreed. “Firing… A direct hit.”

\+ Information, long-range sensors detect four further vessels on an intercept path. + Zen intoned.

Tarrant grinned. “Time for a good old fashioned work out then. Zen what is the condition of our energy banks?”

\+ Energy banks 1, 2 and 3 are at full strength, 4 and 5 are at 75%, 6 is at 47.25%. + 

“Acquiring a lock on the first target once more, firing……”

\+ The lead ship has been destroyed. + Zen confirmed.

“Cally, I’m going to do a roll and come up from underneath the second two, make sure you have the force wall in an overlapping grid pattern,” Tarrant instructed.

“Understood," Cally agreed.

\+ Information. Scanners are detecting space debris from an earlier battle in this area 12 spacials directly in front of this ship. +

“That would be a good place for an ambush,” Worf offered.

“Agreed,” Cally said with a nod. “Tarrant.”

“Already onto it."

“Today, would not be a good day to die,” Worf said with satisfaction.

“I certainly hope not,” Tarrant agreed. “What a morbid thing to suggest.”

“It is the Klingon way,” Worf said with a growl, honing in on his next target. “Target acquired… fire……”


	34. Chapter 34

Jack looked up at the soft click of his cell door, and, as casually as possible he moved to cover the instrument that looked like a wristwatch, hiding it from view. But his door didn’t slide open.

The faint whisper/swoosh heard when a Dalek moved was not present.

Curious, Jack got up after a few minutes and went to the door, and gave it an experimental push with the tip of one boot. It swung open, no one, no Dalek was there.

Jack looked up at the security camera in the corner of his cell. It was on the light beneath it a dull blue.

Then it went off.

Jack stared. The light came on again, then went off once more, then came back on once more. It took Jack perhaps three minutes to realise that the light was coming on and going off in some sort of pattern, so an attempt at communication then. It took him another minute and a half before he had it; Morse code.

“Damn it! I want lights!” Crusher swore as she stubbed a toe, picking herself up off the deck. “Somebody get me some lights and turn those infernal sirens off!” She continued, yelling above the sounds of groaning metal and electronic wailing. A panel behind her shot a firework of sparks into the air, giving very dim illumination. Spying Ballard on the floor in front of her Crusher bent down to see where she was hurt. 

“Are you ok?” she asked the young lieutenant as she struggled to sit up.

“I just bashed my head. I’m alright… I think…”

“Well get it looked at as soon as you can, you can’t be too careful with head injuries,” Crusher said patting the teacher on one shoulder before offering her a hand to help her to her feet. “Are you able to get me a status report on the rest of the ship?” she asked, yelling close to her ear.

“Yes sir, I’ll do my best,” Ballard responded.

“Good stuff. Anyone else, if you’re injured call out,” Crusher ordered, unwilling to take a step forward on the unfamiliar bridge. “And please can we get that alarm shut off, somebody please…” Crusher asked raising her voice once more. 

The alarm stopped.

“Well, that’s something at least,” Crusher said in the near dark. “Now lights would be a good thing, about now…”

Nothing happened, except someone groaned.

“Too much to hope for I guess. Who’s groaning?” she continued.

“Just… just me sir… I think I hit my head when that last explosion happened.” Barclay’s voice came from the left and slightly behind the Acting Captain.

Then a muffled banging started up from the back of the battle bridge.

“How bad are you Reg, are you able to continue… Did you finish with the ionisation field?”

“N…nearly sir… I’ll get back on it now…. Doctor…” Barclay offered.

“Good, but I think you might need some lights…”

An eerie dim red glow suffused the Battle Bridge, bathing everyone in blood-red shadows. A crack across the viewscreen showed zig-zagged fuzzy lines. They would have no forward view any time soon.

The banging grew louder. Now looking towards the sound Crusher realised that it was coming from the aft turbolift, and abruptly remembered that Chang had said she was sending Ensign’s Allenby and Anya to assist Beverley at con and ops. Growing suspicious that the Daleks had tapped into the  _ Enterprises  _ electronic systems, and could probably lip read, they had arranged the transfer by gesture alone.

“Someone, help me get the Ensigns out of there,” Crusher cried. 

"I... I think I have a wrench around somewhere..." Reg offered.

“Not you Barclay, you’re needed where you are, the ionization field has top priority.”

“Ballard, see if you can get me a status report, make that your first priority. Does anyone know, did we manage to complete the saucer separation?” Beverly asked moving cautiously towards the back of the Battle Bridge as there had been no acknowledgement from either McRobb or Barnaby.

Crusher nearly tripped over both men. McRobb had already opened a service panel beneath his station and was deep in the bowels of the equipment working to restore light and communication. 

Barnaby was looking rather peaky, holding onto an obviously broken arm and dislocated shoulder.

“We’ll get help for you as soon as we can,” Crusher promised, after satisfying herself, there appeared to be no internal injuries on the acting security chief. 

“Ballard can you call down to sciences on Deck 31 and ask them to set up a triage centre please, we’re likely to have more than one casualty to send them.”

“Yes sir,”

“You may have to get someone to come and release the Ensign’s as well, I don’t think we have any able bodies left. And get me, Lt Chang, if you can, we need to know if we were successful.”

_ \- . . - . - .  _ _ \- . / . - . . . - - .  _ _ . . . . –  _

_ \- . . - . - . - . / . - . . . - - . . . . . –  _

_ Dash, dot, dot, dash, dot, dash, dot, dash, dot space dot, dash, dot, dot, dot, dash, dash, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dash. _

Jack frowned, trying to remember the different combinations of dots and dashes which made up the alphabet of the Morse code. He thought about saying the dots and dashes out loud, in an effort to dredge up his memory, but realised that if he were being monitored by unfriendlies, which was more than reasonable, then he would be giving away any potential help he was being offered.

“Bear with me,” he muttered beneath his breath instead, “it’s several centuries since I used this stuff you know!"

_ Dash, dot, dot, dash, dot, dash, dot, dash, dot space dot, dash, dot, dot, dot, dash, dash, dot, dot, dot, dot, dot, dash. _

_ Dash, that would be the letter “T” T u r n…  _ Jack worked out slowly in his head.  _ R... i... g... R i g h t _ …

“Turn right? Is that what you’re saying? You're the one who opened the door? You want me to leave this room and turn right?” Jack queried, speaking out loud, not being able to recall enough of the alphabet to code it be able to tap it back to the individual helping him.

\- . - - . . . .  _ yes _

Jack raised an eyebrow as the hairs on the back of his head stood up a little. He was being watched. “Why?” he challenged.

_ \- . . - . - . - . / . - . . . - - .  _

_ . . . . – turn right _

“Not so chatty now are you, my friend? Why should I trust you?”

_ \- . . - . - . - . / . - . . . - - . . . . . – turn right _

“Is that it?”

\- . - - . . . .  _ yes  _

_ \- . . - . - . - . / . - . . . - - . . . . . – turn right _

“And there was I thinking could be the start of a beautiful relationship!” Jack said with a grin and a shrug. “Well, why on earth not? It’s not like I have anything better to do at the moment,” he said rolling down his sleeves and putting his greatcoat back on again. Without a backwards glance, he strode out of his cell and turned right.

_ “Exterminate… Exterminate… Exterminate,” _ the Dalek said, then came the sound of it firing its gun stick.

Chang grabbed the back of the chair she’d fallen against, to pull herself back on her feet. The room was in darkness, illuminated only by the starlight visible through the conference room windows and the faint glow forcefield glittering across the doorway leading to the main bridge and the conference room. Chang had been the last person through the doors of the conference room, the doors practically closing on her as the Dalek glided onto the bridge, its eyestalk moving erratically about as it took in every detail of the nerve centre of the  _ Enterprise _ .

Breathless, but fighting to control herself, Chang spoke to the room at large. “O’Brian how far off completion is the positive ionisation field? Is it likely to work now the  _ Enterprise _ has separated?”

“Yes sir. We’re almost there, the Daleks caused us to lose only a few minutes, not much more. We’re still connected remotely, which I can control from this end,” a voice said from the darkness. “I just need to access the ops panel on the table and we’ll be done in no time.”

“Marksham, did we achieve saucer separation?”

“Yes sir, I believe so,” another voice called in the darkness; and suddenly there was a tiny bit of illumination. Miles O’Brien’s face highlighted as he sat down in one of the conference room chairs and began typing furiously in the ops panel which he’d revealed.

“You think or you know?” Chang challenged Marksham.

The sound of an explosion next door caused everyone to flinch and look fearfully at the door.

_ “Exterminate… Exterminate… Exterminate…” _

“Chief…” Chang said warningly.

“Working on it,” O'Brien yelled, frantically typing the last of his commands into the keyboard in front of him.

“Marksham?”

“Also working on it.”

“Good, where are we at with the explosives on the Bridge skylight?”

“At this rate, the thing might do the job for us,” Solis joked, sitting down beside O’Brian and Marksham to gain access to the ship's' computer himself. “They are primed and ready to go one your word sir.”

“Good. Doctor how about you?”

“I have not yet been gain access to Sickbay at this time, sir,” the Vulcan responded.

Outside the door, to the conference room, the Dalek fired its gun again, and the forcefield protecting the remaining bridge crew started to change colour.

“Should your ship be this sluggish?” Jenna asked the Doctor as she furiously hand pumped the control in front of her by the light of the torch she’d been handed. As far ash she could tell, to little effect.

“Sluggish? She’s never sluggish are you girl?” the Doctor defended, taking the time to pat one of the surfaces of the Time Rota carefully. Wielding another torch he was deep in the bowels of the Tardis directly under the Time Rota.

“Then there’s something wrong with your controls, or they have a tractor beam on us,” Jenna responded matter-of-factly. “The  _ Liberator _ could crawl faster than this with just one of our power banks at half charge. Perhaps they’re able to drain power as well?”

Blake hid a smirk though the situation was serious. He’d just got back to the Time Rota after delivering torches and lanterns to everyone. “Some light would help,” he offered.

The Doctor glared unseen, before wiggling free to jump to his feet and depress a glowing switch. Nothing else appeared to happen. “Instead of just standing there, make yourself useful,” he challenged.

“Me? I’m not a pilot,” Blake responded.

“No, but you are a pair of hands. Toggle that… that…”

“Switch?”

The Doctor glared some more, his face briefly illuminated by his torch before he ducked back down to crawl beneath the panel once more. “Yes, yes, of course, that switch, to the left then down…” he responded his voice muffled.

Blake reached for the switch and the Tardis shuddered. He pulled his hand away quickly. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t get there yet.”

“Then it wasn’t you. That switch now,” the Doctor ordered.

“This one?”

“YES!” both the Doctor and Jenna said in unison, both clearly exasperated.

“Flight stabilising,” Jenna reported. “That button there Blake…”

A shower of sparks followed, pluming out of the top of the Time Rota, like an excited yellow and white firework.

“What!” the Doctor said ducking his head back out of the panel again and jumping to his feet. “No, no, no, no, no… this cannot be happening.”

“It wasn’t me,” Blake repeated.

“What happened?” Jenna asked.

“Oh nothing much, the Time vector generator and thermo-coupling, just blew up!” The Doctor said in despair.

“Can we fix it?” Blake queried.

The Doctor made an explosive sound, waving his hands in the air, in an I-don’t-know kind of gesture, which seeing as he was still holding a torch caused weird shadows all around them.

The lights came back on.

“So that’s a good sign?” Blake asked hopefully.

“So how are we gonna get out of here? What’s the plan?” Donna said hopefully, looking from Picard to Avon and Geordi and back again. Standing around doing nothing was never her thing.

Picard drew a breath and regarded her cautiously. “Who’s saying we have a plan?” he hedged with a not-quite-glance at Data, moving so it would be impossible for the Daleks to lip read.

“I thought that was the whole point of being contacted… you know the whole cloak and dagger act?” Donna continued incautiously.

“Which you’ve just announced to everyone!” Avon said caustically.

“Everyone?” Donna scoffed. “Which everyone?”

“Well, those we don’t want to know what’s happening at least,” Geordi temporised.

Donna frowned.

“You know; them,” Avon said laconically nodding towards the Daleks who were still intermittently firing at their forcefield.

“Oh them, them, I’m beginning to think they should attend anger management classes,” Donna said dismissively, no longer jumping when the Dalek weapons hit the forcefield surrounding them.

Avon smiled sardonically. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate your views!”

“I know a good therapist back home. My friend, Nerys, needed to use one when she found out that she’d accidentally dated twins and then went out with their cousin, I mean can you imagine that?”

“And you’re telling me this why?”

“To cover our tracks Dumbo, just in case you know. Confuse the enemy…”

Geordi smiled. “You crack me up,” he suggested.

Donna looked at him, her expression puzzled.

“In a good way,” the engineer offered quickly, putting up his hands.

Data blinked, he'd finished processing the information Orac had given him and casually walked over to the others. “The individual who has made contact is Orac, I believe we are familiar with his repertoire?” he reported, his lips barely moving.

Geordi grinned, despite the trouble, Orac had caused on the  _ Enterprise,  _ the Chief Engineer felt it was good news that it was now doing the same to the Daleks. “You know, I almost feel sorry for them,” he offered.

“Mr La Forge?” Picard raised an eyebrow.

“Really,” Donna said agog.

“Relax, I’m just joking, I did say nearly, but after the havoc, he caused aboard the  _ Enterprise _ …”

“It,” Avon said absently, processing the information that Orac was aware of their situation and working on a way to free them. “Did our friend say where he was?”

“No, just to ‘sit tight’, he is sending someone to rescue us.” Data confirmed.

“Someone?”

“That is all that was said.” Data confirmed.

“Do we know when?” Picard asked, also processing the information. An awful lot of his command crew, as well as his ship, were now missing. 

He wondered if Orac had managed to make contact with some of those who had gone missing. He was trying to frame a question to ask Data without saying too much when he looked up at him.

Data slowly shook his head. “I do not believe so,” Data said answering the unspoken thought. “Rather, it was suggested something about following a breadcrumb trail through a maze. I do not quite understand the connection?”

“Ooooh, I bet I know who that is,” Donna said jumping up and down. “It is, isn’t it?”

Picard looked at the woman beside him. “Miss Noble, please restrain yourself, we’re trying not to attract attention if you remember,” he said softly.

“Sorry, but it’s obvious isn’t it, he’s getting another prisoner to rescue us…”

Data nodded. “That would seem the most…”

Donna squealed again, then calmed herself. “Is it the Doctor?” she whispered. “He’s very good at following clues, it is him isn’t it… it’s the Doctor… thank goodness, because things were not going, you know too well, let’s be frank about that.

Picard shared a look with Geordi, Data and Avon.

“I do not believe so,” Data said softly.

“For how long do you intend to ignore me? You don’t think this is childish? What good is this going to do? How is this productive? How is this even helping? If we don’t find a way to negotiate with them, then we’ll likely die in here; well I hope you’ll both be happy then. We’ve no food or water, or have you not noticed that? I can be hugely influential, I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding?”

Dayna shared a look with Riker, the kind of look that said: “do you believe this rubbish?”

Servalan continued her monologue, however. She’d started pacing in front of the couple, and when they’d pointedly turned her backs on her, had started her unsuccessful monologue.

Dayna and Riker had no answers, however. The had no clue why the Daleks had been unable to penetrate their own forcefield, nor had they much idea how to use it to their advantage. The forcefield held them in a rough circle in the middle of a large room. There were no doors or corners to hide behind to gain them the element of surprise so they could rush them at any point – even if the forcefield were under Dalek control once more.

Dayna had been genuinely in need of assistance, and no medic had been sent to her aid, so the thought of ‘playing dead’ was also hopeless.

Servalan was also right in the fact that they had no facilities in their cell. There was nothing to sit on, only the floor, no food, no water, no amenities. If the Daleks could not get in to them, and they could not get out, then they would likely perish. They could go for three weeks without food, but only three to four days without water.

They obviously had air though. Riker was deep in the thought about what that might mean when Dayna eventually snapped and took a step towards Servalan.

“Is that what you said to my father? That you were sure everything would be alright in the end? All the while you were planning to betray him, betray us?”

Servalan stopped pacing and worked to keep the smile from her face, but not the slight purr from her voice. “As I told Will, while you were sleeping….”

“Sleeping? When have I been sleeping?” Dayna said hotly.

“While you were unconscious then… you father and sister were alive in the tunnel the last time I saw them…”

“So say you,” Dayna said with a fearful glance at the security camera.

“Oh don’t be so naive they knew already!” Servalan snapped.

“Only because you told them!” Dayna said taking another step forward.

Riker snapped out of his thoughts and moved to catch hold of one of Dayna’s arms. “It’s ok, leave it, that’s what she wants,” he soothed quietly.

Dayna nodded. “You’re right of course, but I just want to smash her face in… she’s just so… so… vile.” Dayna admitted out loud, certainly loud enough for Servalan to hear her.

“Don’t,” Riker said softly, with a glance up at the security camera. 

“She’s trying to goad you, you’re giving her the reaction she wants. Don’t rise to it. Instead, look at the security camera…” he said his voice softer than before.

“Now you’re trying to distract me.”

Riker smiled, “I’m not, but it wouldn’t be a bad thing. However, in this case, look at the light beneath it. It keeps blinking on and off… I’m rusty on my Morse code… but I think it’s trying to tell us something…”

Dayna glanced from the First Officer to the light and back again. 

“Justin, my tutor, covered that in our history lesson. Earth dynamics I think…”

..... .-.. .--. / .. ... / -.-. --- -- -- .. -. --.

Dayna stared at the light again, then deliberately nodded. “I think it’s repeating,” she said softly.

Riker nodded. “Yes, I thought so too. Let’s sit down and see if we can figure it out.”

“Yes of course. I think if I remember correctly that a single dot is an ‘e’?”

“Yes, I thought so too…”

Servalan stared at the couple, who seemed closer than ever, confused and annoyed that Dayna had refused to rise to the bate and relieve some of the boredom. She saw them glance at the security camera once or twice but didn’t understand the significance, rather she was irritated that the security camera seemed to be on the fritz as well.

“Oh good shooting,” Tarrant said warmly. “I have to say you and your men are rather good at this.”

“Klingons are born warriors,” Worf said firmly.

\+ Energy banks 4, 5 and 6 now depleted. Banks 2 and 3 are running low. + Zen intoned.

“Three more hostiles bearing zero three, mark two, seven, five,” Portman warned.

“I do fear it’s going to be ultimately useless,” Tarrant finished.

“We’re not dead yet,” Cally said firmly.

“But we soon will be at this rate…”

“No, wait… the three hostiles are firing on the others,” Portman cried.

“What? Are you sure?” Tarrant asked.

“Zen, a closeup view of those ships,” Worf instructed.

\+ Confirmed. +

The image on the view screen jumped to the three ships now entering the top left of the screen. Tarrant whistled. “They’re Mark 5 Federation Pursuit ships. I thought they’d all been destroyed.”

“Well I for one do not intend to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Cally said firmly.

“Neither do I, but I wonder what they’re doing out this far…” Tarrant mused.

“Another three host… Er, ships are just on the edge of our long-range scanners… With another three behind them,” Portman offered.

Tarrant shared a look with Worf. “Most curious. And while I’d usually stay I’d love to stay and help mop things up, perhaps…”

“… it would be prudent to leave this area and continue our search for our missing ships and crew…?” Worf finished.

“Yes Mr Worf, just so.” Tarrant agreed. “I can’t help wondering what they’re doing out here though…”

“Perhaps they’ve lost something as well,” Cally suggested, “But I agree, let us leave here while we can. Zen plot a course to the nearest space where we can rest a bit and recharge before we go much further. We simply must find our ships and crew.”


	35. Chapter 35

Jack came to a cross-section, halfway down the corridor and looked around for a security camera. He had been following his trail of ‘bread crumbs’ for the last twenty minutes or so.

Jack had no idea where he was on the ship, he had changed floors or rather levels a couple of times, however with no windows, no level or floor markings and no visual aids with which to orientate himself, his normally good sense of direction was quite useless. If asked, Jack would have said he wasn’t even sure he could find his way back to his own cell.

Spying the security camera planted at the cross-section, Jack walked up to it and waved his hand to show where he was, reflecting that it was weird to deliberately stand in front of the cameras and show himself, rather than instinctively avoiding them. In this manner, however, through his mysterious benefactor, he had managed to avoid three Dalek patrols, and one work detail, the last apparent, by the sound of scuffling feet and the clanging of some metal objects.

“Which way now o wise one?” Jack asked aloud, grinning up at the camera.

_ **Hide** _

“Hide? Now?

In the middle of nowhere?” Jack questioned, turning on the spot, continuing the conversation with himself in his head. Literally in the middle, as it turns out. How on earth am I supposed to hide here? It’s not as if I can stand still and pass off as a statue! 

Already able to hear the soft swoosh sound of the electrometric gliders on the Daleks, Jack looked around for a door. He needed to find a room in which to hide. There was a door, a couple of metres to the right of him.

Praying it wasn’t locked, or worse still already occupied, Jack pushed against the door, and when it opened, slipped inside.

“Exterminate, exterminate, exterminate….”

“O’Brien I don’t want to worry you or anything, but I don’t know how much longer the forcefield and door are going to last. We have at best just under a minute…”

“Yes Lieutenant, I’m doing my best. I lost contact with Lieutenant Barclay for a while, but we’re back on now and finishing up.”

“Lieutenant…”

“I can talk or I can work ma’am.”

White-hot sparks started to plume through the door, the tip of the Dalek’s laser torch showing plainly.

Chang was determined to stand her ground and glanced across at Marksham, but they were both aware that they were about to die horribly any minute now.

“Got it!” O’Brien cried in triumph.

The sparks stopped.

Lt Chang stared at the door uncertainly. “What just happened?” she queried nervously.

“The positive ionisation field is up and running sir,” O’Brien said with a grin. “Now we don’t have much power, so it’s not going to hold them forever, but it should be long enough to get them off the _Enterprise_.”

“Marksham do we have teams standing by with environmental suits?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then let’s get a move on people. Clear them from the shuttle bays and co-ordinate with the battle bridge to push the one near main engineering out of the nearest airlock.”

“Already being done, sir.”

“Good.”

“Are we going to lay charges on them before we eject them? Indications are that their metal shell is a fully contained atmospheric capsule.”

“Once our shields are up, and being modulated, do they pose a threat to the _Enterprise_? Will they be able to attach themselves to the ship or get through our shields again?”

“Not now they’re being modulated on a variable cyclic rhythm, no sir, it’s unlikely. And without power, they’re going to be adrift in any case.”

“Then leave them be. Now about the one on the bridge. Are we sure the forcefield around this room will be strong enough to protect us if we blow the skylight?”

“Now that the shields are no longer being drained, yes sir, they should be.”

Marksham agreed.

“Then detonate the charges and let’s see if we can’t get this ship back to some semblance of normal. We have orders to report to the nearest Starbase and bring back reinforcements if we can.”

“We’re going to leave without Captain Picard and the rest of the bridge crew.”

Chang smiled grimly. “They were my orders, but…”

“Aye, sir…”

“Charges set to blow in three, two, one….”

An explosion rocked the _Enterprise_ saucer section, and everything went dark for a second time.

Acting Captain Doctor Beverley Crusher stood by anxiously with a tricorder in her hand as the aft turbolift doors were prised open, using portable hydraulic spreaders. As the doors were eased apart, the shiny faces of the two ensigns became visible due to the overhead lighting array borrowed from one of the geophys department. It had been hot in the turbolift with the air conditioners not working.

“Are you both all right?” Beverley asked quickly.

“Yes sir.”

“Just a little hot.”

“It was one hell of a ride though,” Anya added with a glance at Tess Allenby who grinned as they both quickly rose to their feet.

“You’re sure you’re ok?” Beverly asked, watching, as the Acting Security Chief Lt Albert Barnaby was stretchered away to attend to his broken arm and shoulder.

“Yes sir.”

“Good, then see if you can’t help with repairs to the forward viewscreen, we’re currently flying blind. Lt McRobb can give you your assignments.”

“Yes sir.”

“Er Doctor,” Barclay cut across.

“Yes, Reg?”

“You wanted to be notified when we had the positive ionisation field up and running. M… Miles and I have just finished setting… setting it up and it’s now active…”

Beverly Crusher blinked, then realised she was being given some good news for a change. Some very good news indeed. “Well done Lieutenant,” she smiled, before turning to McRobb. 

“Yes ma’am, I heard, already onto it. Anti-grave devices are already closing in on the Dalek. The security team plan to transport it down two decks and send it out through cargo bay 4.”

“Very well, Lieutenant carry on.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Captain… Dr Crusher… I thought you might want to know, following the decompression of the main bridge, we’ve just lost contact with Lt Chang’s team in the conference room.”

“Target 2400 mark 35,” Portman informed Worf.

“Cally shields overlapping aft,” Tarrant called out.

“Target acquired, clear neutron blasters for firing, firing now,” Worf confirmed as the enemy ship attempted to come at them from behind their top support strut housing power banks 4 and 7.

\+ Oncoming vehicle has been destroyed. + Zen reported.

“May I take it from all the jumping around that we haven’t found the damn planet we were after, Sarason, Sanddune or something like that?” Mudd said, choosing that moment to walk onto the bridge. “It’s really hard to do a stock take with all this shaking about going on. I just felt the need to come and tell you that.”

“Shaking about?” Tarrant stared at the man in disbelief.

Alexander Mudd tipped his forelock towards him.

“Wait, what, are you drunk?” Tarrant frowned.

“No, surely not,” Cally said moving forward as if to leave her station.

“New target, 2720 mark 275,” Portman said to the room at large.

“How did they get beneath us,” Tarrant said in exasperation. “Worf, I’m going to do an inverted star loop, be prepared to fire when we get close. Hold on everyone,” he continued putting the _Liberator_ into a tight right-hand roll and twist up. 

Predictably, Mudd lost his footing and slid across the desk to end up against one wall, before Tarrant twisted the space vehicle in the opposite direction, hesitating just long enough at the hyperbole to allow Worf to get a clear shot.

\+ Oncoming vehicle has sustained damage to its port side and is venting atmosphere into space. + Zen stated as the _Liberator_ righted herself again.

“Zen give us a visual on the object to the top left of the screen,” Cally suggested spotting something on the viewscreen in front of them.

“Zen split screen so we don’t lose forward visual.” Tarrant countermanded.

Mudd got giddily to his feet. “Ow,” he complained. “I feel sick.”

“Does your inventory contain a consignment of liquor?” Worf queried with distaste as Mudd used his console to pull himself to his feet.

“Why yes, some of the finest Saurian brandy as a matter of fact.” Mudd grinned. “I can do you a really good deal on a case if you’d like?”

“No thank you,” Worf said pressing a button on his console. “D’Son to the bridge,” he announced, and then turned back to their passenger. “You would be better off in your assigned quarters, or back on board your ship. I have called one of my men to assist you.”

\+ The object on screen is the wreckage of an unknown species. + Zen said formally, as the image that Cally had spotted suddenly appeared much larger on their screens.

“Is there any life on board?” Cally asked quietly.

\+ Negative. +

“Does it have any power?”

\+ Negative. +

Tarrant briefly turned to look at Cally. “So you’ve found us a wreckage,” he said, his tone clearly implying what now.

“I have,” Cally agreed. “Zen can you confirm the size of the object?”

\+ The wreckage is 75 millispacials in length. +

“Are you saying that it’s over three times our size?” Tarrant queried.

\+ Confirmed. +

“I think we’ve just found ourselves a place to hide for a bit, don’t you?” Cally grinned.

“A broom cupboard, you couldn’t have found me a room with anything interesting in it, just a broom cupboard!” Jack muttered to himself in his cramped quarters. He’d heard the telltale whisper/swoosh of several Daleks passing by and had allowed a couple of minutes after that before he stuck his head out of the cupboard to see if the coast were clear.

Silence and lack of Daleks greeted him. 

“All right then boys and girls, it appears it’s time to go,” he muttered to himself, reaching back into the cupboard for a couple of items before proceeding forward. Cautiously he walked up to the crossroads and showed himself in front of the camera.

“Which way?” he asked.

“So what are we supposed to do then? Just stand around and wait to be rescued?” Donna said frustrated.

“I believe that is the case yes,” Data agreed mildly.

“You have not received any further instructions from… our friend?” Picard asked.

“Is it not possible for him to lower the forcefield himself?” Geordi enquired.

“It,” Avon corrected immediately.

“One moment please,” Data said formally.

“You’re wasting your time,” Avon suggested. He had taken to limping around their confined space, trying to bring strength back to his still mending limbs. It wasn’t making him any friendlier. “If or… our friend was able to lower the forcefield then it would have done so by now. The fact that the forcefield is still in place just increased in strength, is suggestive of the fact that it can influence existing fields, but not create or disable one.”

Data blinked. “You are quite correct in your assumption,” he agreed. “I have also been asked to inform you that a series of post lateral squats would serve your attempts at increasing your range of movement bilaterally.

“Lights are good,” the Doctor confirmed, switching off the torch he’d been holding. “Always makes everything more cheerful somehow.

“So you’ve managed to fix the ship then?” Blake asked hopefully.

The Doctor gave Blake a look, which said nice try, but no. 

“So what are we going to do? I’m a pilot, but no engineer. For that you need Avon, as much as I hate to admit it,” Jenna said sensibly.

With a glance at Jenna, the Doctor slid back under the console he’d been working on. “Do you want the good news or the not so good news?” his muffled voice asked moments later.

Jenna and Blake shared a glance; it was just like old times. 

“Let’s go for the good news,” Blake suggested hopefully.

“With the time vector generator and thermo-coupling on the fritz, the Tardis can’t be boarded, not that she can be boarded usually anyway of course, but still, now she’s definitely off-limits to everyone.”

“So we’re safe inside here?” Jenna asked.

“Oh yes, safe as houses,” the Doctor agreed cheerfully.

“So what’s the bad news?” Blake asked cautiously.

“Ah, I was hoping you’d forget that the first bit doesn’t matter quite so much, not at the moment at least, since we’re currently in flight so to speak…”

“Doctor?”

The Doctor sighed. “I just want you to stay calm,” he mumbled.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing, so the first part, doesn’t matter that much now… we can’t take off…”

“But we’re flying now…” Jenna responded.

“We are, but should we land, we’d not be able to take off again.”

Blake looked at Jenna; he had an ominous feeling about things. “And what’s the second part…” he queried.

“We... er… we currently can’t land either…” the Doctor admitted.

“So we’re stuck in space?” Jenna asked.

“Yesssss, well, maybe, but only for the moment I’m sure.”

“Are you able to make repairs?” Blake asked reasonably.

The Doctor was about to say that of course, no problem, he was used to mending the Tardis on the fly, and if things went too badly wrong, there wasn’t much which couldn’t be fixed with a trusty mallet and some applied judicial thumps, when the Tardis seemed to stall.

Inertia and threw everyone against the nearest solid object.

Impossibly gravity blinked off and on in a split second.

Blake and Jenna had a good hold of the Tardis railings so they were the least affected by the sudden changes in momentum. The Doctor banged his head hard against the transducer megafactor with a large crunch. Avalon and her rebels lost their footing, Vila fell off his ladder in the library, the beds in the infirmary were thankfully held gravimetrically in place though Docholli and Fargus collided with several walls, while the children and Troi ended up in several heaps, thankfully under several piles of pillows, blankets, and quilts, which served to break their fall.

“What!” The Doctor spluttered, regaining his footing and rubbing his head as he pulled across one of the Tardis display screens and punched in several commands. “How is that even possible?”

“How is what possible?” Jenna demanded, even as Blake went to check on Avalon.

“The Tardis has been caught in a tractor beam,” the Doctor spluttered.

“The Borg?”

“Yes by the looks of it. It should be impossible while we’re in flight mode, and since we currently can not come out of flight mode, it should be even more impossible.”

“Well, clearly it’s not. And by the looks of things, they’re pulling us in.”

“No! No, we’re not going to allow that. Push that dial there, counter-clockwise, and punch in the code which appears on the screen,” the Doctor said firmly then raised his voice. “Hold on tight everyone, it’s about to get bumpy.”

“It hasn’t been already?”


	36. Chapter 36

“So, which one of you is Orac?” Jack asked, deactivating the force field surrounding the Away Team, Donna and Avon with a flourish. The smoking remains of one Dalek stood as mute testimony to Daleks reaction to ordinary cleaning fluid. "Well, who'd have known that eh?" he said stepping past where the forcefield perimeter had been. "But we should hurry the others will most likely be back soon.

“You’re not the Doctor!” Donna said immediately, dragging her eyes away from the Dalek to Captain Jack. They'd all watched Jack nimbly lure two of their Dalek guards away in astonishment, before pouring a bleach-like substance through the vents of the sole remaining guard.

“Orac is not here,” Picard said firmly, pulling down the hem of his tunic. Following Jack's lead, he took a deliberate step past the parameter of their former prison himself, exhaling with relief when he wasn't zapped. With a shared glance, Geordi followed him.

“Wait you know the Doctor?” Donna asked, not yet moving, still thinking over the fact that Jack hadn't denied knowing who the Doctor was, while the mention of him confused everyone else. "You... actually... know... the Doctor?" she repeated.

“Yeah, sure I do. So where is the Doc or Orac?” Jack said with a half-shrug as he continued to look round for Orac, still thinking he was a person.

Avon gave Jack a speculative look. The Captain's flair and easy humour were not to his taste, but he couldn't deny he had courage and a certain amount of charm. “That is indeed the question of the moment,” he suggested, therefore. 

Data turned as Jack drew close. He alone had not reacted to the Captain's presence as he'd been talking with Orac. Now he turned, his golden eyes blinking once as he processed the information Orac had just given him. “Orac says he’ll take you to him,” he said, walking towards Avon where he offered him a hand to lean on. Somehow Avon didn't mind Data's help.

“It!” Avon said absently, bending down to pick up the gadget he and Data had made before taking the offered assistance, so they could leave their confinement.

Donna watched everyone start to move out of the cell, without seeming to realise she needed to go too. Geordi had made his way very quickly over to the Dalek control station and was now examining it closely, with the Captain standing next to him and nodding. 

"Penny for them?" Jack asked moving to stand next to Donna.

"What? Oh, it's nothing really. This was so 'not' how my day was supposed to go, you know," she offered. "I was supposed to be going out with a meal, with him. The Doctor had promised me this really flash place... and now look... running for our lives again, but no Doctor..."

"I know how that feels."

"Do you?

"Yeah, I do actually. But he'll turn up, he always does. Usually with this goofball look on his face,"

"And some wacky plan," Donna agreed.

The two of them shared a glance. "So how long?" Donna asked.

Jack smiled and put his hands in his pockets, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "It's been a while. You?"

"Ooohhh 37 hours, forty-two minutes and some odd seconds," Donna said, trying to sound as glib as Jack.

Jack smiled at the redhead. “Well that’s the thing with the Doc, isn’t it? He has this timey wimey thing going on. Never able to quite get my head around it, despite this thing?" he said taking his hands out of his pockets to tap his wristwatch.

Donna looked at it, but Jack was already moving on. "He has this one friend...Dr Song.... and they have this a diary which they use to keep events in order somehow, never understood it myself.”

Charmed Donna smiled back. “You’ve met River Song?”

“It seems we both have.”

Donna's smile widened, then she sobered. “Did you meet the Vashta Nerada too?

“No, can’t say I’ve had that pleasure…”

“No, it’s not a pleasure, I can assure you. There was this library, an enormous one, well a whole planet really, filled with books and…”

Having finished listing to La Forge as he gave him the rundown on the Dalek Control Centre while watching Avon and Data examine the dead Dalek, Picard realised they were not exactly doing anything, other than standing around waiting to be captured again. With a sigh, he drew a breath. “People please, enough. It’s been clear for some time that time itself is breaking, universes and people are meeting under extraordinary circumstances, I'm sure there'll be time to catch up on everything later. But for now…”

“I’d say,” Donna muttered.

Picard shot her a look. “But for now," he repeated. "Now that the Captain here has been so good as to try and rescue us, I propose we live up to his expectations and get out of here. I for one would like to be long gone before the Daleks release we've escaped and come searching for us."

“Good plan,” Jack agreed. “Although from what I've seen from your friend Mr Orac, I think we're pretty safe for now, he's doing a good job of messing our friends up a bit.”

“As to that, we should get going, and retrieve him. I have the floor plans,” Data announced.

Avon sighed. Orac was not a he, but no one seemed to understand.

“You can read Morse?” Jack asked, falling in beside Avon and Data.

“No, we converse in binary code,” Data admitted.

“We’ve lost all contact with the saucer?” Beverly asked returning to stand by her seat in the centre of the small Battle Bridge, her eyes lingering for a few moments after Barnaby had been stretchered away. Her first real command. What a catastrophe it was turning out to be. Looking at the Captain's chair, she gripped the back of it hard with her fingers but could not quite bring herself to sit down.

“Yes sir." Anya at Conn answered her.

“What? Nothing at all?”

“No ma’am.”

"Damn it!" Beverly swore beneath her breath.

“D… D… Doctor… I’ve been trying to raise Miles, but he’s not responding either,” Barclay confirmed entering into the conversation unannounced. He was still monitoring the positive ionisation fields. It was holding in the areas of their portion of the_ Enterprise,_ but he couldn’t tell if it was still in force on the saucer section or not. That portion of his screen was still running system diagnostics.

"Thank you Reg," Beverly nodded, before turning back to the Ensign. "Keep trying to raise them," she instructed.

“Yes ma’am,” Anya confirmed.

“Is… is it too soon to talk about sending someone over there?” Barclay asked, looking as worried as Crusher felt.

“Can we do that?” Beverley queried, thinking out loud.

“Yes Sir, we could,” McRobb confirmed, wiggling clear of the panel he'd been working under. “Try that now Lt Ballard... Captain, we could use the personal transport on Deck 14 to put someone onto the bridge and see what’s going on. With Lieutenant Barnaby in sickbay, did you want me to put together something?”

“Yes, that's better thank you. Ma'am, we should be able to give you a partial forward visual pretty soon now. An Away team could suit up, just in case,” she suggested.

“In case?” Beverly said swallowing but knew what the acting Science Officer meant. They couldn't contact the bridge or the remaining bridge crew who had been holed up in the Conference Room. Nowhere else on the saucer was responding to their hails either, but they couldn't see what had happened. Had the saucer lost power or was the communication network just down? And if the power was out elsewhere on the saucer why? Which had happened first? Were the Daleks still active?

On the other hand, if the power was out across the top of the ship because they’d been successful and blown the skylight off the bridge, then the chances were that those in the conference room might not have made it. So it came down to the supposed power cut. What had caused it and when? And had the power been cut to the saucer before or after they'd used explosive charges in the skylight? Were they looking at cause and effect or two separate incidents occurring at the same time?

“They could take some environmental suits and medical supplies just in case,” Allenby offered. "

“Are you sure the power is out everywhere on the saucer?” Crusher asked McRobb.

“No ma’am, our own sensors and power supplies are still suffering from the glitches we had before we were boarded, so it’s making our internal readings difficult. As you know, things have not been right on the  _ Enterprise _ for days now.”

The Tardis creaked.

The kind of sound that comes from a ship tearing itself apart.

A small puff of smoke, not more than a tendril appeared in the centre of the Time Rota.

With a look of pure disbelief, the Doctor flipped a switch and sat down.

Blake looked at him. “So?” he demanded.

“There’s nothing more I can do,” the Doctor said admitting defeat. his body slumping

“That’s it? You’re giving up?” Jenna shouted.

“I'm not giving up. We just don’t have the parts," the Doctor said simply.

“You don’t carry spares?” Blake said in disbelief.

“Well, yes normally I do… but some parts, like the dynamorphic generator, which are connected to the translation matrix have to be grown…” the Doctor explained looking quite dejected.

Jenna and Blake shared a mystified look but were interrupted by Deanna coming to lean on the handrail beside the Doctor.

“I don’t want to trouble you or anything,” she said softly, “But I’m getting the most… I'm not quite sure how to describe it,” pausing Deanna looked off into space for a few seconds. "“It’s not quite a feeling, it's more like…”

“A tickle in the back of your brain?” the Doctor said with a fond expression, recognising that particular feeling well. The Tardis was talking.

Deanna drew a breath, then nodded. “Yes, that’s it… your ship… she’s suggesting… there might be… something… something to do with bubbles... a place?”

Jenna and Blake frowned, confused by the apparent non-sequentor.

The Doctor jumped to his feet and smacked the side of his head with one hand, causing his hair to stick up in all directions. “Yes of course. Listen to me moping around when I’m being thickety thick of thicksville! The Bubble Room. Come on, we need to act quickly…”

“A bubble room?” Jenna looked at Blake and then the Doctor. “Is that where you grow the parts of the Tardis?"

“No, no, of course not, the Bubble Room is close to the heart of the Tardis and is virtually impregnable. It would be prudent, things being what they are at the moment to move the children and those in the medical facility to there. You can go too if you want."

“No way,” Jenna bristled immediately. “We’ll stay and fight.”

“What about them?” the Doctor said pointing towards Avalon and Deva.

“Ask them,” suggested Blake.

Selar’s ears were still ringing from the force of the concussion as she searched through the conference rooms emergency supply cabinet, searching for palm lights and oxygen rebreathers. The room appeared to be tilted at a slight angle, causing her to wonder how much damage had been done to the  _ Enterprise _ saucer.

Someone touched her arm. Uneasiness coupled with worry flowed through her as a breath whispered warmly in her ear, making her Vulcan senses tingle.

“I can’t hear you,” she said aloud, shaking her head faintly to clear the mental intrusion. “My ears are still ringing.”

The breath came again, just as her fingers touched the familiar shape of a palm light. Relieved she switched the torch on and directed it towards the person talking to her, careful to keep the beam out of their eyes.

Her flashlight identified it as Marksham, blood from a cut to his forehead trickling down the side of his face, still talking.

“I can’t hear you,” Selar said again, then turned her flashlight to her own face to mime the fact she was still deaf.

Marksham nodded, looking queasy, and pointed to his right.

Selar nodded, reaching into the cabinet for another light and handing it to him.

Marksham switched his on with slightly shaking hands, causing the light patterns to fracture and wave in the darkness, picking up bits of rubble and a couple of overthrown chairs, and then there, near the bulkhead was the supine figure of Lt Chang, one leg bent at a crazy angle, obviously unconscious.

\+ Information. Forward scans suggest that there are no longer any Federation pursuit ships in the area. + Zen announced.

“Well, that’s good news at least,” Tarrant said with a smile. 

“What about the status of the other ships?” Worf asked more cautiously.

"Yes Zen, are we clear of the other ships?" Cally asked.

\+ Four of their ships remain. Indications are that they are performing a hexagonal vector search of the area. As such they will pass within 2.371 spacials of our current location. Dependant on the strength of their scans we may become visible to the lead ship within the next 3 hours and 22.76 minutes. + Zen confirmed.

“We can’t seem to catch a break can we?” Tarrant chaffed. "What now, do we make a break for it, and hope luck will be on our side for once?"

"No, our energy banks are too depleted." Cally pointed out.

"Again," Tarrant sighed. "I thought the _Liberator_ was supposed to be the most invincible fighting ship in the whole known galaxy."

"She is, but you're hardly being fair, we've been running for our lives and fighting for hours now."

"We've done a lot of hiding too..."

"But she wasn't fully healed when she came in search of in the first place, and this is hardly the known Galaxy now is it?" Cally suggested with an apologetic look at Worf.

"No offence," the Klingon agreed. "However I may have at least a partial solution."

"Oh?"

“Zen are the aliens ignoring the space debris around them in their search?" Worf asked.

\+ Confirmed. +

“We need to be dead,” Worf said looking at Tarrant.

“Or else… make them think we are….” Tarrant said with a speculative look in his eye… “There’s a well-known pirates trick…”

“I believe I am familiar with it…” Worf agreed.

“And we do have an extra ship or two aboard…”


	37. Chapter 37

“Yes!” Barclay cried excitedly as the viewscreen on the Battle Bridge cleared, the electronic fuzziness of the past couple of hours giving way to a crystal clear image, as McRobb completed the last connection on the forward bulkhead.

However, their relief only lasted for a moment.

Sitting at con and ops respectively, Ensigns Anya and Allenby gasped in dismay, catching sight of the _Enterprise_ saucer section. The large disk was listing badly to one side, most of the lower portion of it in darkness. It was immediately obvious that the situation aboard her was far worse than they’d imagined.

“Glitches aside something's gone very wrong,” Beverley remarked, sitting down in the captain's chair without thought, too shocked by the sight in front of her to even remember her earlier reluctance to sit in the 'big chair'. “Are you continuing to hail them?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“We’re getting no response on any channel.”

“No ma’am.”

“Life support?

“Unknown at this time.”

"Lt Ballard, Lt Barclay?"

“We’re working on it. Sensors are still not fully operational at the moment.” Ballard responded.

"Our links are all... all down," Barclay added.

“So we’ve not got any way of knowing if they’re alive or dead over there?” Beverley said, her heart breaking. The saucer contained all the crews' families, and she’d ordered the saucer separation. She didn’t know if she could live with herself if they were all dead.

“We’ve got to send in an Away Team,” Ballard said firmly, turning from the science station to look at the screen, saying what Beverly was thinking, but didn’t yet voice. "There's only so much we can do remotely."

“What is the status of the Dalek near main engineering?” Beverly countered.

“I believe they’ve just closed the airlock and are about to jettison it into space,” McRobb confirmed. “It didn’t reach Main Engineering, so apart from working our way through the glitches and fixing them, we’re in good shape.”

“Good. Then we need to put together a team to transport across to the saucer,” Beverly continued, agreeing with Ballard's assessment.

“Yes sir, and I believe I should go too.”

Thump, the Tardis appeared to drop to the ground from several feet and shake a bit from side to side. It rocked unsteadily released from the Borg tractor beam, before settling with a loud whump.

Blake, standing in the doorway to the bubble room, semi supervising the proceedings, making sure the kids and those that were deemed vulnerable through injury were safe inside, had to clutch at the door frame to prevent himself being thrown to the floor.

The inside of the bubble room resembled a small park. Pathways, trees, play areas stretched as far as the eye could see. A medium-sized pool area had just 'appeared', growing up from the floor, presumably for the children to play in. In fact, most of the children were standing still, just watching it grow it in astonishment, and while the rest of the Tardis was jolted on the outside, the surface of the pool remained calm and glass-like – until the first of the Federation refugees decided to test it out their new acquisition and jumped in, excitedly, fully clothed and shrieking with delight. The idea that they were moving deeper inside the Tardis for safety all but forgotten at the unexpected treat.

Roj Blake sighed softly at the sight.

“This is the last of us,” Docholli commented, cutting across Blake's thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"Everyone should now be inside, that's been told to shelter at lease," Dochollie tried again. "Although why it should be necessary for me to do so, I really don't know."

"Doctors orders," Blake suggested.

"But which one. I'm a doctor too, don't forget?" 

"And your help has been invaluable," Blake agreed.

Docholli huffed, but it was true. Once he and Deanna had managed to get their head around the Tardis medical facilities, they had been able to treat Moss and Payton's injuries far more effectively than they’d thought possible, and although both men were still weak, they were also clearly on the mend. 

“I tried to tell the Doctor we could fight, but he wasn’t having any of it,” Moss complained.

“He’s not big on fighting,” Blake said with a shake of his head. “I’ve come to realise that myself.”

“But there is a time and a place for it, and I think that’s now,” Moss disagreed. "Not hiding away like this."

“Absolutely, but not while you can’t walk,” Docholli pointed out. “And besides we need someone to take care of them,” he said gesturing to the young people, now happily playing in the water.

“Hmm,” Moss was not convinced. “If this is a safe room, that shouldn’t be necessary, surely?”

“Well here he comes now, why don’t you argue with him yourself?” Blake suggested.

“Argue, who wants to argue?” the Doctor queried predictably as he drew close pushing a large handcart containing the children's' bedding, intending to give it back to its owners. 

Vila, beside him, took over with a theatrical groan.  “Ooomph! I didn’t realise it would be this heavy,” he immediately complained. 

“I was telling Blake and Docholli, that I feel perfectly well enough to fight,” Moss said firmly. "I don't need to go in there.

The playfulness which had been lurking in the corners of the Doctor’s eyes vanished instantly. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, then you'll be their last line of defence”

“They'll need it too,” Deanna said coming up on the Doctors other side. “You don't know the Borg, there is nothing you can do to stop them.”

“Well, I am hoping I have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

“You will need to,” Deanna said simply. “That’s it, everyone is now as safe as they can be. For however long the Tardis can hold out.”

Dalek Sec swivelled his eyestalk to look at the huge spherical ship which had just dropped into warp. To one side of him, on one of the few viewing screens that were still mostly functioning, numbers and symbols scrolled by, giving Sec the estimated dimensions, weight, armaments and capabilities of this new ship. The numbers suggested its circumference was two-thirds the size of the Dalek warship, but it had a greater density and was bigger overall, as the new vessel was a full sphere, whereas the Daleks ship was in their preferred a saucer shape. Scanning the data Sec saw that the ship likely carried a primary shield generator inside what was likely to be a self-regenerating shield matrix. Several transwarp coils were noted, inside specialized chambers that featured heavy shielding. Sec could find no internal measurements that would make up discernible living quarters or indeed a central computer core or even a command station, but he did take note of their enhanced deflector arrays and plasma ports. 

None of that was important to the current Commander of the Daleks however.

For what had caught Sec’s attention, was the small flash of blue, as a tractor beam caught hold of a small spinning cuboid shape, so small, it appeared as a mere speck against the backdrop of the ship which had obviously been chasing it.

“ALERT, ALERT, ALERT, THE DOCTOR HAD BEEN DETECTED,” Sec announced loudly, his voice amplified and carried by the saucers internal system. “INITIATE BATTLE PLAN TAU SIGMA PI. ALL DALEKS WILL REPORT TO THEIR BATTLE STATIONS. EXTERMINATE ALL ESCAPED PRISON… ers on sight…” abruptly Sec’s voice was cut off, and the screens in front of him started to grow fuzzy as Orac stuck again.

Not one to be deterred Sec moved off station to plunge his sucker arm into the nearest comport and continue issuing non-verbal instructions to his soldiers. A show of sparks seconds later saw his hasty disconnection from the port and the summoning of his number 2. Instructions were given to immediately mobilise several Dalek fleets against the Borg ship.

“Now look here, why does it have to be my ship?” Mudd said hotly, as Tarrant and Worf bore down on his small craft.

“Well, of course, it doesn’t  _ have  _ to be your ship, but the contents it carries will be a lot more convincing of our demise when strewn across space, than the hopper I arrived in,” Tarrant said gesturing towards the small pod-like craft that had been barely big enough to fit more than Tarrant inside. “It’s barely big enough to fit a flea in, let alone contain most of the contents of a destroyed ship.”

Alexander Mudd scowled and gestured towards the craft belonging to the Federation Troopers. “Well, what about that one then?”

“Well, that’s a possibility, of course, providing we’d be happy to live with the Troupers aboard until we can find a friendly Federation ship that wouldn’t shoot us on sight and take them off our hands.”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t simply jettison them into space now and let them take their chances with the aliens,” Mudd complained.

Tarrant nudged Worf. “What you see before you is a fine, upstanding model citizen,” he suggested in jest.

Worf looked at Mudd. “His plan does have some merit,” he said slowly. “Bodies or something to shoot at would make our apparent demise more… believable.”

Mudd looked appalled. “You can’t be serious,” he spluttered.

“It’s your plan,” Tarrant pointed out.

“But… but it’s inhuman…”

Worf raised an eyebrow, as a Klingon, that was clearly not an argument which would work on him.

“Fine, have my ship, but I’m taking my cargo off her first. You’re not having that too. And someone will need to give me a hand with the Tribbles. Most are in cages, but they wouldn’t all fit, so some are in the bedroom too."

Worf hesitated and looked rather longingly at the Federation troopship, and took a couple of steps towards it.

With a pure grin of devilment, Tarrant blocked his way and clapped him on the back. “Cheer up Mr Worf, things could be much worse than this…”

“I don’t see how,” Worf grumbled.

“Are we lost? We’re lost, aren’t we? Haven’t we come this way before? Why is it, they all look the same?” Donna queried after walking for ages, seemingly taking left and right turns at random. Twice they’d had to flatten themselves up against the wall, and they’d once ducked into a room to avoid detection.

“We are not lost,” Avon hissed, walking just behind her. “Although it’s no thanks to you. You don’t seem to understand what being quiet means!”

“Stop talking both of you,” Geordi grumbled. “Though I must say, I thought we may have passed that same room a while ago.”

“You are quite right Geordi,” Data agreed softly. “Our aim is to reach Mr Orac without being detected, so detours around several patrols have been necessary to avoid detection.

“Shush, all of you,” Jack said, making a stop motion with his hands, beginning to sincerely regret getting mixed up with the Away Team and their assorted guests. Like Data, he continued to communicate with Orac, or rather follow his directions at each intersection. “By my calculations, our friend should be across there, the second door down on the right. Wait here, while I go and rescue him.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Avon countered immediately. “I’m coming too.”

McRobb finished fastening the clips to secure the helmet of the atmospheric pressure suit he was wearing and gave the “A-OK” sign with one hand as he heard the electronic bleep denoting a pressure lock had been achieved on the suit. “I’m all set,” he said through the speaker on his headset. Ensigns are you ready too?”

“Yes sir,” twin voices responded, one an engineer, the other security.

McRobb looked across the cargo bay at Crusher, still giving last-minute instructions to two further team members, these both medics.

There had been some discussion over whether the Acting Chief Engineer should be transporting into possible hostile territory or not, but he had pointed out that it was a no brainer for him to remain on the Battle Bridge section of the _Enterprise_. They were free of their unwelcome guest, the remaining engineering team were working steadily to clear the glitches from the systems, but they were mostly junior engineers. They didn’t know what they would encounter on the saucer section, but everyone had family and friends there, so they needed to get help to them fast, and McRobb was the best person to carry out that task.

The Borg drones finished setting up the last of the laser cannons encircling the Tardis and methodically moved to install the control box which would allow them to operate all six of them at once.

Without a countdown, fanfare, or even a comment, the lead Borg switched them on.

Red energy streaked towards the Tardis a nanosecond later and completely encased it.

A glowing blue shield stopped the weapon less than a foot away from the Tardis and started to grow ever brighter with each passing moment.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay; had a bit of an emergency yesterday. All's good now though.

"All right then, let’s go and kick some butt and show them what we’re made of! What do you have in the way of weapons Doctor? We know those things are difficult to stop or kill, but they need to know we mean business,” Avalon said firmly, anxious not to put a foot wrong now.  She’d come to realise just how easily the Doctor would remove her from the Tardis, and she needed his ship to reach the heart of the Federation and finish the rebel uprising once and for all.

Listening to Avalon however, the Doctor looked absolutely horrified. “I don’t like guns, nasty, awful, dreadful things!” he stated firmly, his distaste self-evident.

Avalon stared. “But not as nasty, awful and dreadful as dying?” she pointed out testily.

“I don’t really have much time for that either,” the Doctor retorted.

Avalon shared a look with Deva and laughed dryly. “I don’t think even you get much choice about that.”

Unexpectedly the Doctor grinned. “Ooooh, I don’t know about that. And besides, there’s always this,” he said holding up his sonic screwdriver.

“And what’s that?”

“It’s my sonic screwdriver, doesn’t kill, doesn’t wound, doesn’t maim," the Doctor said promptly.

“So what use it is then, against those things outside, who are trying to get in and do just that to us?” Avalon scoffed.

“Ohhh I don't know, it has it's uses!”

Blowing air through his nostrils the Doctor beckoned Avalon and Deva to join him on the Time Rota platform. Moving gingerly they both approached him cautiously, waiting to see if they would be zapped by the Tardis’ forcefield. Blake, Jenna and Vila joined them too.

Cautiously the four humans crowded around the Doctor as he pointed towards the monitor viewing the Borg outside the Tardis doing their best to get in. 

“Watch and learn,” the Doctor instructed Avalon, pointedly changing the setting on his screwdriver before plunging it into a seemingly readymade port on one of the control panels of the Tardis. “Press that and that,” he suggested, to Jenna, looking across Avalon’s head towards Blake.

The Tardis rocked ever-so-slightly as a muffled whump was heard a moment later.

Watching the Borg and their weapons on the monitor, the crew of the_ Liberator_ and the leaders of the Rebel Alliance were astonished to see all the Borg unmoving flat on their back, while their machines had been left in smoking ruins.

“… _ ‘help is coming’ _ What do you think that means?” Dayna asked Riker.

“I’ve no idea.”

“You’re sure that’s what it says?”

Riker nodded. “I’m sure, it’s been repeated several times now.”

“Is there no one on your ship that would contact you like that?”

Riker frowned. “Well there are several people who could, the Captain, maybe La Forge, and almost certainly Data, but I can’t think of why they’d want to.”

“Well, how would you usually communicate then?”

Very surreptitiously, keeping his back to Servalan, Riker showed Dayna the briefest glimpse of his combadge. “Through this,” he said softly.

“What is it?”

Looking up at the camera, still not sure what to make of the Morse code Riker shook his head. “Not here, and yes I’ve tried,” he whispered looking as if he were talking to his shoes, trying to keep away both from Servalan and now the camera too.

Dayna pouted. “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

Dayna laughed shortly. “Well, how can things possibly get wo…”

“Don’t say it,” Riker interrupted quickly.

Dayna laughed properly now. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re superstitious?”

Riker gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, it certainly can’t hurt.”

“So what are we going to do about our ‘friend’? Do you remember enough of the thingy to ask them who they are?”

“I’d thought of that, but there’s no way to verify what they’re telling us?”

“You are suspicious, aren’t you?”

“Always! But yes, I think so. Just keep an eye on her.”

“What are you going to say?”

“Who are you, seems like a good place to start, don’t you think?”

“I think that’s about everything,” Tarrant said, puffing slightly as he surveyed Mudd’s ship stripped of everything useful, then crammed full of other ‘stuff’. Cally had supervised. Nothing crucial was missing from the_ Liberator_, but a vast assortment of odds and ends, electronic parts that were no longer salvable by either Avon or Vila, clothing – from the vast wardrobe room, which no one would ever wear, junk items that Blake had enviably collected ‘just in case it might be useful someday’ was also added, until the little ship was packed to the rafters and then beyond.

Mudd stood silently by as his life was slowly taken apart. “Are you sure this is really necessary?” he asked for the umpteenth time. “Can’t we just cut all power and drift slowly past them like any other piece of wreckage?”

“No, we can not,” Cally tried to explain once more. “For one, Zen can not be shut down this close to the site of a space battle. With no navigation or shields or deflectors if we hit just one piece of real space wreckage we could be seriously damaged…”

“And secondly, Klegg and his murderous crew have amply demonstrated they can get past normal locks. They need to be kept in the brig if you value your life, and for that, we need to have power,” Tarrant said irritably.

Worf entered the cargo bay and walked up to them quickly.

“You have it?” Tarrant asked.

“Yes, it’s here,” Worf agreed, showing Tarrant and Cally what he’d been working on for the past quarter of an hour.

Worf’s offering looked just like any other piece of junk that Tarrant had crammed into the ship behind him. The only noticeable difference between it and the others was a couple of winking red and green lights.

“It’ll work?” Tarrant said taking it from Worf and turning it over.  “Not very elegant is it?”

“It does not need to be,” Worf said sounding quite put out. “It only needs to perform its function, which it will do. We should make sure we’re a safe distance away before it is detonated.”

“It’s on a timer?” Cally requested.

“Yes, as was requested. We will have 5 minutes to position the craft and remove ourselves from the immediate area.” Worf agreed.

“Excellent, then I think we’re done.” Tarrant agreed.

“Portman to Worf, Zen says to inform Cally that the unidentified alien craft is less than 45 spacials away from our current location,” Portman said over the comm system.

“Acknowledged,” Cally responded and tapped Worf’s explosive device. “We need to move quickly.”

Tarrant grinned, “Yes I think even we understood that,” he commentated. 

“Mr Worf, you may have the honours.”

Laser fire streaked out from the Borg ship, completely annihilating the first and second wave of Daleks sent out from the Dalek saucer.

Laser fire hit the third wave of Daleks but shields appeared in front of them.

The shields lasted 5.473 seconds before the third wave was destroyed too.

Dalek Sec looked on with interest.

The loss of three battalions meant nothing. They had served their purpose and now the Daleks had a wealth of knowledge transmitted back to them by their brethren before they died. 

Adaptations were already being made, although internal communications within the Dalek ship remained patchy and the faults had yet to be tracked down, so things were progressing slower than normal.

Sec watched intently as a series of small oblong ships came out from behind the Borg Cube and headed towards the Dalek Saucer.

The automatic defences of the Dalek Saucer blew the ships to smithereens the moment they were within range.

The greenish hue of the Borg cube changed from green to red.

“Energise,” McRobb instructed the transport operator, clutching both a medi-kit and a phaser rifle. Beside him stood two further medics, two security guards and a trio of engineers.”

“Energising…” the transporter operator confirmed.

…It was dark

The are of the bridge lit only by the lights in the spacesuits worn by the Away Team. 

A scene of devastation met their eyes.

The doors of the main turbo lift had been blown apart from inside the lift. 

Scorch marks from what was obviously a devastatingly powerful energy weapon were scored over most of the bridge positions, ops, con, engineering, tactical and science stations heavily damaged, most of it looking irreparable. Not a single panel had any functioning lights.

The skylight in the central ceiling was blown away, ripped apart from the inside. And at that time, anything that hadn’t been bolted down to the ship had been sucked away into space.

But the Dalek was gone

“Get a seal on the skylight,” McRobb ordered the team of engineer immediately, even as he had his tricorder out to scan for life signs.

“Aye, sir. We’ll be able to get a temporary seal in place for you in under five minutes. It won’t hold if we need to move position, but it will be enough for us to be able to rig some portable shields either side of it until we can make it back to a Starbase.”

McRobb nodded, his breathing sounding loud in his spacesuit, as he made his way to the upper deck towards the conference room doors, where the two medics had already gathered.

“Life signs?”

“Yes sir, four, though one is very weak. The seal on the door is not complete though, they’re losing oxygen at an alarming rate.”

“Can we use a sealant from this end until we’re able to secure the skylight?”

“We could, yes sir, but we really need to get in there.”

“Can they last five minutes without it?

“No sir.”

“Then you know what to do,” McRobb said beckoning one of the security people over to help out, as he opened the communicator strapped to his wrist. “McRobb to Lt Chang, can you hear me?” he queried.

“There are three Daleks on guard,” Jack whispered to Picard, Geordi, Data, Avon and Donna. They were stood bunched just round the corner from the room they needed to enter. Jack had made a brief detour to pick up extra supplies thanks to Orac. “Now this stuff is your ordinary domestic….”

“It is a mixture of various cleaning fluids containing highly corrosive substances,” Data interrupted. “Highly toxic and injurious to most organic lifeforms.”

“Which explains why we’re hanging back from this particular round,” Geordi said to Data. “But not why you’re apparently immune?” he finished looking at Jack.

The Captain grinned. “I’m not immune exactly. But I have some let us say… unique abilities.”

“And these unique abilities will keep you safe from harm?” Picard inquired curiously.

“Not exactly, but yes, just that.”

“I don’t understand, you're not making any kind of sense,” Geordi complained.

Avon snorted. “Our comprehension of the matter is not required is it, just that they’re able to get on with the task at hand so we can free Orac.”

“Yes quite,” Picard nodded.

“What er he said?” Donna agreed.

Picard looked at Donna.

Jack grinned. “Just what I like to see. Democracy in action. Come on with me Data, let’s get this thing done shall we?”


	39. Chapter 39

Avalon looked at the smoking remains of the Borg and their weapons as she pushed past the Doctor to exit the Tardis first. There was no doubt about it the original group of their attackers were dead.

“If you could do that before why didn’t you?” she hissed, looking back at the Time Lord as he stepped out of the Tardis himself, looking around him in dismay at the carnage. 

Vila came out next, edging close to the Doctor, deliberately skirting around the grotesque remains, which were still lightly steaming.

The Doctor looked at Avalon with disdain. “The taking of life should never be glorified,” he said softly. “We needed to protect ourselves so we did. This was a last resort, and should never be our first choice.”

“Good, then I hope we can find a way to protect ourselves off this ship,” Avalon snorted.

Jenna came out of the Tardis with Blake. “I’m not squeamish or anything,” she said slowly. “But there must be a better way than this?”

"I hope so too," Blake agreed.

The Doctor also nodded, his face grim. Silently they looked around them. They appeared to be in the middle of a mid-size shuttle bay, therefore they were open and exposed standing where they were. 

After gently closing the Tardis’ door, and using his sonic to deadlock it the Doctor drew a breath. “Right then, Allons y,” he suggested. Choosing a direction, seemingly at random, he ran off towards a series of stacked grey crates by a far wall.

Vila bolted after him immediately.

With a look at Blake, Jenna was prepared to follow his lead. 

Blake, however, liked the Doctor and was starting to have a firm respect for his abilities and knowledge. He set off at a loping run after the Time Lord, therefore. “It’s better if we stick together,” he suggested.

Avalon looked at Deva. They were the only ones standing by the Tardis.

“At least for now?” Deva suggested.

With a nod, Avalon and Deva followed suit.

The last Dalek lay in smoking ruins at Captain Jack’s feet. He grinned at Captain Picard. ”Nice shooting Captain,” he offered.

Straightening the hem of his tunic, Picard rose from his crouched position at the other side of the entrance. “Indeed. Well done Captain. You displayed some ...er ...rather interesting moves yourself.”

Jack offered Picard a mock salute and raised his voice just a little bit.  “It’s safe to come out now boys and girls,” he offered, letting the rest of the group know that the coast was clear and they could come out of hiding.

While Data might have been the better partner for Jack and had been his first choice, since Jack and Data were the only ones currently able to talk with Orac, Picard had offered himself in Data's place as being more ‘expendable'. That way, if Jack was injured trying to rescue Orac, there was still had someone left to act as a translator. Picard had waved away Jack’s ‘immunity’ as a theory not yet proven.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Donna’s voice drifted through another open doorway just past the junction, where they'd been hiding.

“Yes beautiful, quite sure,” Jack said seriously.

Picard rolled his eyes. “We need to get moving, but we’re safe enough for now,” he countered.

Jack’s grin got wider, as Data still supporting Avon appeared, followed by Geordi who was walking unhesitantly towards them, trailed lastly by Donna. 

As a group they all walked through the doorway Jack and Picard had cleared. The room was in almost total darkness.

“So, which one of you is Orac?” Jack called out as Geordi quickly pushed past him to release the forcefield holding the Dalek’s captives, his visor allowing him to see perfectly, where the others could not. 

With a flick of a button, Geordi activated the light switch too.

One of the occupants, a female, turned. “Orac? Did someone say Orac?” she queried.

Avon sighed theatrically. “Servalan!” he said flatly, recognising the Supreme Commander immediately.

“Why Avon, you don’t sound surprised,” Servalan said with a purr.

Subtly pushing himself away from Data, not wanting to appear injured in front of Servalan, Avon took in her dishevelled appearance and the fact she had been evidently captured, with no small amount of relish. “Why should I be? Our meeting is the most unlikely event I could possibly predict, and yet you are here. Surprise seems inappropriate somehow.”

“Are you not even a little bit pleased to see me?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Quite. Somethings never change. And you’re still chasing after Orac too ...how… quaint.”

Dayna, who had been sitting in a corner with Riker was astonished that their would-be-rescuers apparently knew Sleer, could stand it no longer. “Wait? What? You know her?” she said in disbelief, just as Riker also turned.

Several conversations broke out at once.

“Lt McRobb, this is Lt Marksham. I’m glad to hear your voice. I think most of our internal comms are down.” Marksham said turning his back on Dr Selar momentarily as he voiced his relief. Chang had yet to regain consciousness. Her left leg was broken in at least three places, and Selar thought she might have internal injuries too. At least she was alive however; her breath fogging the oxygen rebreather they’d managed to fit over her face without moving her too much.

O'Brien and Solis were not much better, they both had an assortment of bumps, bruises and suspected broken limbs. Solis’ right ankle was swollen nearly twice it’s normal size, while O’Brien had broken his left wrist. Both needing to remain stationary and as still as possible O’Brien and Solis were sharing a rebreather mask, as were Marksham and Selar.

McRobb smiled briefly. “I’m glad to hear your voice Lieutenant,” he responded formally. “Power is out over most of the saucer section, that’s why your comms are dead. What is your status?”

“I’m ok, as is Dr Selar. Chang, O’Brien and Solis need medical attention. How soon before you can get here?”

“We’re right outside the door.”

“Site to site transport,” Marksham guessed. “Listen, we’re losing air fast, can you get us out before then? The door’s jammed.”

“The electrics have failed. We need to seal you in first, stop the leak of oxygen. The charges worked, our guest is gone, but the bridge is still an open vacuum. We’re putting in temporary repairs so we can repressurise the bridge, and then we can get you out, but it’s going to take four or five minutes.”

“Understood.”

“Can you hold on until then?”

“Yeah, we should be able to,” Marksham agreed, just in time to see Chang regain consciousness and start to cough up blood. “Er scratch that, I think we’re going to need help a little faster.”

The doors to the shuttle bay whooshed open, vapour trailing in their wake.

Avalon only just managed to duck down behind a drum of some kind when a squad of ten Borg drones entered the deck.

The drones didn’t break their stride as they strode across the metal deck plating towards the ruins of their comrades. Bending down beside each one, they removed several components, pieces of technology, before the dead then completely disintegrated.

“Efficient,” Jenna commented to Blake, one eyebrow half raised.

“Hmm,” Blake agreed.

“It’s creepy, I don’t like it at all, can we get out of here please?” Vila suggested.

Blake gestured towards the door of the shuttle bay which had closed after the drones had entered. 

“I don’t know Blake, I’d be awfully exposed if they turned around and saw me,” the thief prevaricated.

With a look at both Blake and Vila, the Doctor directed his sonic towards the closed doors. They opened a moment later with a slight hiss of steam.

Vila winced and managed to look impressed at the same time. “Would you mind if I?” he asked, reaching his hand towards the screwdriver.

The Doctor quickly tucked it away in an inside jacket pocket. “Sorry, not this time,” he said walking through the now open door.

Avalon, Deva, Blake, Vila and Jenna followed him.

“All right Doctor. Which way now?” Avalon challenged.

Wetting a finger the Doctor held it up in front of him and turned on the spot several times. “This way,” he said, at last, taking the left-hand corridor that was just a few feet away from their current position.

“So where are we going?” Blake asked.

“We’ll know when we get there,” the Doctor suggested enigmatically.

“Just what we need, a wild goose chase,” Avalon suggested in disgust after several minutes had passed.

“Course not,” the Doctor replied stopping a minute later as he reached an obviously empty alcove with a keyboard beside it. With another glance at Vila, he took out his screwdriver and plugged it into what looked like a random portal. Typing quickly into the keyboard, the Doctor adjusted the screwdriver a couple of times, then stepped back as a 3D schematic of the Borg Cube came to life, glowing green and rotating slowly.

Mudd poured himself a drink and watched morosely as his ship appeared on the viewscreen of the  _ Liberator. _

“Put that stuff away,” Tarrant suggested, attempting to take the bottle away from him.

“That’s my life that’s about to be blown up, I think I’m entitled to one small drink,” Alex complained.

“You have had three drinks already,” Worf growled. He was not best pleased. Several of Mudd’s Tribbles had escaped in the transfer of Mudd’s cargo to the _ Liberator _ . Their cooing was starting to echo through the ships comms, thoroughly annoying the Klingon.

“One drink or three, what’s it matter?” Alex said belligerently.

“Zen detonate the charges on the vessel 2 spacials from our current location,” Cally ordered.

\+ Confirmed. Detonation in 10… 9… 8… +

“I can’t watch,” Mudd said grabbing his bottle back.

“Then don’t. But stay still and quiet while we try and get out of here, with our lives, and hopefully sanity intact,” Tarrant snapped.

+… One… +

Mudd’s ship blew up in a shower of sparks and trailing debris.

“Wait, wait,” Cally instructed.

“Tracking alien vessels,” Worf confirmed. “Speed and course are changing…”

“Are they going for it?“ Tarrant asked.

\+ Information. Course change indicates target vessels are heading toward the location of the destroyed vessel. + Zen suggested.

“Oh well-done everyone,” Tarrant grinned. “Zen give me flight control back, and let’s back ourselves very carefully away from this area and see if can’t make a run for it."

“All we need is a couple of photon torpedoes, and the job would have been over in a few moments,” Worf muttered beneath his breath. “Running away from a fight is not the Klingon way.”

Cally lightly touched him on a shoulder. “If all goes well and we can resume our flight, perhaps we’ll find our way back to this ship of yours,” she suggested softly.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait :-(

“Will it’s unbelievably good to see you, but how on earth did you come to be here?” Jean-Luc Picard exclaimed patting his First Officer on the back, his smile genuine and full of relief despite their current circumstances.

Riker shrugged. “It’s a long story, but I’m only here thanks to the quick thinking of this one,” he said pulling forward Dayna. “Dayna, I’d like you to meet my commander, Captain Picard.”

“A pleasure,” Picard offered, shaking Dayna’s offered hand.

“Likewise,” Dayna said shortly. “But don't believe everything he told you. He's saved my life too, more than once."

"Is that so?" Picard acknowledged. "I look forward to reading your report Commander. May I ask who is the other member of your party?"

"She doesn't belong to us! You need to take her into custody. She's... she's pure evil," Dayna quickly said pointing at Servalan.

"Evil? That's a very strong word to use against someone," Picard replied, raising an eyebrow. He looked at Riker for an explanation.  “Number one?”

Riker drew a breath and glanced heavenward briefly. “It’s a long story,” he started to say diplomatically.

“No it’s not,” Dayna contradicted automatically. “She tried to kill us, repeatedly,” she said hotly. 

“And we still don’t know what she’s done with my family.”

“Is this true?” Picard asked.

“Yes, kind of, mostly… she’s certainly not to be trusted, but she’s also the leader of this part of the universe…”

“She’s a bloodthirsty dictator…” Dayna pointed out.

“Whose ship crashed on the same planet as the shuttle we were sent to examine,” Riker pointed out. “And where Dayna here, undoubtedly saved my life. I then went on to save Sleer's life. It becomes a bit more complicated after that.”

Picard sucked in a breath. “Hmmm, yes I see, it would do. Present circumstances notwithstanding, these are complex matters indeed.”

Riker nodded while Dayna scowled. Riker pointed at Avon. “Speaking of which?”

Picard looked over his shoulder at Avon, still standing close to Data, and apparently having an animated conversation with Servalan. “Our guest from the shuttle,” he said carefully. "His name is Kerr Avon and he's some kind of computer genius, not the easiest kind of fellow to get along with."

"Looks like they know each other though," Riker observed.

"Then he's not to be trusted either," Dayna pronounced. 

Picard and Riker shared a look, but it was the Captain who spoke. "Mr Avon has done nothing to warrant our mistrust. Indeed we believe it's his comrade... It's quite fascinating actually Commander, Avon has his own travelling companion, an entity akin to Data... in function, if not form. We believe it is this Orac who is aiding our escape…”

Dayna looked at Data. “He’s not real?” she queried. "But I'm looking at him?"

Picard frowned, while Riker smiled. “Come on, let me introduce you,” he suggested. “You’ll see for yourself that Data is as real as you or I.”

“Zen set a course towards the coordinates where we first picked up Mr Worf and his team,” Tarrant instructed.

\+ Confirmed. +

“Zen what is your estimated time of arrival?” Cally asked.

\+ We should reach our destination in 4.572 hours. + Zen confirmed.

“There you go Mr Worf, we’re nearly there. Zen, have you managed to pick up any trace of Blake and the rest of the  _ Liberator _ crew?” Cally continued.

\+ Negative. +

“Zen I am entering a new search pattern into your database,” Worf stated, carefully writing commands into the computer interface in front of him. “They should greatly enhance your parameters and widen your search capabilities along inverse and transverse vectors. That should help speed up your search.”

Tarrant and Cally stared.

“What?” Worf asked with a scowl.

“Nothing Worf, that’s just incredibly kind of you, that’s all,” Cally smiled. 

“It is nothing, I have learned a thing or two about search patterns as Security Chief of the  _ Enterprise, _ that is all,” Worf said, sounding embarrassed at the attention.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay on board; as you can see we have plenty of room?” Tarrant suggested, half-seriously.”

“We?” Cally asked, turning to look at the young pilot. “I still haven’t decided if you can stay yet?”

Tarrant grinned at her, “Well, make up your mind, or I may jump ship?” he replied, only half-jokingly.

“McRobb to Captain Crusher. We have located the remaining bridge crew. Lieutenants Chang and Solis along with Chief O’Brien are injured, but Dr Selar and Lt Marksham are ok. We have restored positive pressure back on the main bridge and we have lights. However, there is no power to any of the stations. The Dalek carved Ops and Tactical support up pretty good. We're going to need to put into a Starbase to rectify most of the damage I can see. We have no idea of the condition of the rest of the ship.”

“So you don’t know if sickbay is functioning?” Crusher asked, absorbing the information.

“No ma’am, I'm sorry, we've not got that far yet. It's next on our 'to do' list.”

“Arrange to transport Chang, Solis and O’Brian back here, then proceed to deck 8 and ascertain the status of the ships computer core. Make sure life support is up and running on all decks. 

That has to be your order of priority at the moment,” Crusher said firmly.

“Yes ma’am.”

Crusher looked about the Battle Bridge for Lt Barclay. Eventually, she saw his feet under a control panel. “Reg how are you coming on with those long-range sensors?” she called, moving to tap his feet with the toe of her boot to gain his attention.

When the two halves of the  _ Enterprise _ had independently lost power, they’d also lost their sensors and their ability to see the area of space around them. The Battle Bridge had regained its forward-viewing capability a short while ago, which had, in turn, lead them to see the stricken position of the saucer. They'd launched a rescue mission soon after. 

The ship's sensors were still offline however, fixing them was a more complex task than rerouting the sensors to the viewscreen. Both forward and aft sensors needed extensive repairs and recalibration. Barclay had been working tirelessly with the engineers McRobb hadn’t needed, to get things up and running again. 

Hearing Dr Crusher call him, Barclay moved clear of the panel immediately. “Any minute now Doctor,” he said jumping to his feet to continue his work on an open panel on top of the control station.

“Good. McRobb has secured the main bridge but says that it has no power. He’s going to assess the status of the ship's computer core, to see what can be done from that end. But what I want to know is, is there a way we can divert some over our power to them?”

“Without docking? Which we can’t do anyway without power?” Barclay asked.

“Yes, if we have to,” Beverly said simply. The intricate status of the  _ Enterprise _ when in two halves was something she’d never thought she’d have to deal with. “We can’t….”

Red Alert sirens cut across Crushers words.

Barclay moved to silence them immediately.

“I would say you have the sensors working,” Crusher said dryly.

“Yes, doctor.”

“So what is the status of the Dalek saucer?” Crusher asked turning to Allenby and Anya.

“Er… I don’t think it’s the Dalek saucer we need to worry about,” Anya said, in a slight breach of bridge formality. With slightly shaking fingers she moved the  _ Enterprise’s _ visual input to show something just off to the right of the Dalek saucer. Something even more deadly, and which certainly hadn’t been there before.

A Borg cube.

The Battle Bridge crew stared at the newcomer in horror.

Crusher sat down in the captains’ chair without a thought.

“Shields up, modulating harmonics,” she announced quietly, her mind working feverishly once more. “Do we have enough power to move?”

“Impulse only at the moment ma’am,” Allenby reported.

“Then I need you to put us between that cube and our saucer.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Crusher to McRobb.”

“McRobb here. We’ve just left the bridge and are on deck three. Power seems to be out on this level too, the turbolift’s are not working. We’ve not yet encountered anyone, though we’ve heard banging coming from corridor 3.1.75 and are about to investigate.”

“Forget about that,” Crusher started to say.

“Forget about…..”

“You have a new priority and a new set of problems. It is critical you get the shields up as fast as you can; that takes prescience over everything, we are manoeuvring the Battle Bridge to draw closer to you to render some assistance…”

“The Daleks are about to attack? We can…”

“No, not the Daleks. There is a new threat. A Borg cube has just arrived and is stationed to your starboard side.”

“I’m sorry doctor, but did I hear you right?”

“You did. I have Barclay working on a way to transfer your power, if necessary, but you need to get your shields up as soon as you can. Crusher out.”

“So, do you know where we’re heading? I have to confess, every corridor looks the same as any other,” Blake asked the Doctor who was leading them deeper and deeper into the Borg vessel.

“Yes, I’d noticed that too,” Jenna agreed. “I’m glad I’m not alone then.”

“Do you know where we are going, Doctor?” Avalon challenged openly.

As a general rule, the Doctor didn’t dislike many people, it was simply not in his nature, but he was developing a strong aversion to Avalon. “Yep,” he announced, without popping his ‘p’ as he usually did, before leading his troupe up a ramp onto the next floor. They followed him reluctantly. The floor they were now on, looked exactly the same as the floor they had just left.

“And that would be where?” Avalon asked, determined to get an answer from the Time Lord.

The Doctor stopped and glanced across at Blake.

Blake shrugged. “I have to admit, she does have a point,” he offered apologetically. “My sense of direction is pretty good, but even I am starting to get a little lost. I must confess, I'm not confident I could find my way back to your ship without you,”

“You couldn’t?” Vila wailed. “Where does that leave us then? Doctor, please tell me you know the way back?”

“Of course I do,” the Doctor reassured. “I always know where my ship is.”

“Then you’re better off than the rest of us,” Avalon retorted. “So where does this wild goose chase end?”

With a hard look at Avalon, the Doctor used his sonic to project the map he’d extracted from the Borg interface. “We’re heading here,” he said, pointing to an incredibly small glowing amber dot.

“And where is here?” Deva asked, jostling for a position, then peering closely at the dot. 

“The projection is too small to make out any details,” Jenna pointed out.

The Doctor scowled, unused to having everything questioned multiple times, over and over again. With a twist of his sonic, he zoomed in on the amber area. “The Borg’s infrastructure appears to be incredibly diverse and adaptive. Many areas seem capable of serving multiple functions dependant on need, rather than having a specialised focus such as main engineering or a bridge or cargo bay…” he tried to explain.

"Eh?” Vila said looking lost.

The Doctor tried to think of something that everyone would understand. 

“Think of this ship as being a bit like an octopus. Rather than a centralised nervous system such as most common humanoids have, two-thirds of an octopus's neurons are spread throughout its body, with the ability to make decisions without input from the brain. This ship is just like that, see?”

Blake gave the Doctor a small half-smile. “Thank you, just one question if I may?”

“Of course, though I should warn you I’m not an expert.”

“What’s an octopus?”

The Doctor stared. “A soft-bodied, eight-limbed mollusc. That lives in the sea. On earth?” he tried.

“There were creatures like that living in the seas?” Vila said in surprise.

“We grow up in domes, on Earth Doctor,” Blake said feeling sorry for the Time Lord. “Our seas, if there are any left, are too polluted to sustain life.”

“I… I’m sorry,” the Doctor said appalled.

“Thank you,” Blake started to respond when Avalon cut across them both. 

“Yes, it’s very sad, and all that. But we’re getting off point. What does the yellow dot mean.”

The Doctor drew a breath and mentally refocussed. “Yes. Right then. Although the octopus has it’s brain cells spread throughout its body, as the Borg ship has largely decentralised it’s critical infrastructure, there does appear to be a main port access there…” he said zooming in on the dot so everyone was able to make out what looked like a small eight-sided alcove, whose configuration appeared to be different to the rest of the ship. “That’s where we’re heading,” the Doctor said firmly.

Avalon grinned. “Right, well why didn’t you say so in the first place. I think we have just enough explosives left to blow it to smithereens!”

The power outages were becoming more than tedious Dalek Sec decided. 

The unknown viruses and errant bits of programming were the sort of genius the Leader of the Daleks had rarely encountered. Previously only The Doctor, Dalek enemy No 1, had been able to cause such chaos, but now Sec was rapidly elevating his current nemesis to that position too. 

For Sec knew who was behind the attacks, but so far all Dalek ingenuity and might had failed to stop Orac.

The forcefield around the plastic brain in a box was stronger than anything they had ever encountered. Initially, Orac had fed the forcefield from the power it had siphoned off from the energy cordon around it; a type of causality loop that was self-proliferating. Sec had ordered the power cut, but that action would necessitate the Daleks being able to reach the ‘off’ switch to the forcefield, which had now grown to incorporate the off switch itself. They had tried blasting their way through, using their considerable firepower – but Orac had somehow been able to utilise that energy as well to enhance the forcefield around it.

And in the meantime, not being content to just protect itself, Orac had continued to cause further mischief. Internal and external cameras and sensors were malfunctioning. Doors wouldn’t open, guns wouldn’t fire, loading bay doors wouldn’t respond and either stayed open or resolutely shut and now both the main and auxiliary positioning thrusters enabling the saucer to hold a relatively stable geostationary orbit were intermittently misfiring.

Dalek Sec wanted Orac off its ship.

Movement in one of the hazy fuzzy viewing screens caught Sec’s attention. 

The bottom half of the _Enterprise_ was moving. 

Sec studied the screen for several minutes. He had no longer been interested in the _Enterprise_ once he had captured its Captain and the companion of the doctor. What readouts he had that were still functioning, showed the explosive decompressions which had happened on both parts of the ship to rid themselves of their Dalek invaders had damaged both ships considerably. The saucer-shaped disc was dead in the water. The other bit could have escaped at low speed and Sec would not have bothered to chase after it for some time. However, now it was manoeuvring, but not further away as it would have expected, but drawing closer to its stricken other half as if trying to shield it from the newcomer.

Sec’s eyestalk swivelled back to the sphere.

A blast of static washed over the screen.

Casually Sec dispatched two more of his attendants to try and terminate Orac, or stabilise the saucer. Either or preferably, both would be a good outcome, while it also ordered three more units to close in on the Borg sphere.

Laser light snapped out from the sphere almost as soon as the Daleks reached its outer perimeter.

Sec seethed.

The viewscreen in front of him rippled.

“You will surrender. We are the Borg. Resistance is futile. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deepest apologies, very bad case of writers block!

Dalek Sec stared at the viewscreen in front of it; glitchy, fuzzy lines and all and inwardly fumed. "Daleks do not take orders,” it responded disdainfully. “Your outline resembles the inferior species known as Cybermen. We defeated the Cybermen at the battle of Torchwood. We will do so again.'

“The species Cybermen is unknown to us. We are the Borg, you will lower your shields,” the voice from the Borg ship responded coldly.

“The Daleks are the superior beings. You will lower your shields and prepare to be boarded,” Sec said just as dispassionately and was about to say more when one of its attendants came into view, clearly agitated, its gun arm waving as it drew closer.

Sec closed the channel the Borg had initiated immediately. “Report.”

“Prisoner 7645 has escaped from his cell,” the Dalek said immediately moving back a couple of feet as it departed the news.

Prisoner 7645 had been picked up fairly recently. Initial scans had shown that he had some void stuff clinging to the outside of his body. Records also showed a kill strike against the prisoner at Bad Worf, before the game station had exploded. The Doctor and one of his companions had been sited on that day. By their very nature, the Daleks were therefore interested in Jack and had slated him for interrogation shortly.

Dalek Sec was, therefore, most displeased. “Find the prisoner. He could not have gone far,” he instructed harshly. “Take him for immediate interrogation upon recapture.”

“I obey,” the attendant Dalek confirmed and prepared to move away.

“Wait.”

The attendant stopped.

“What is the status of the other prisoners?” Dalek Sec asked aloud.

There was no way the attendant Dalek could know the status of the rest of the humans and various other captives held aboard the Dalek saucer. Sec turned back to the view screens surrounding the centre of the control room and operated a few of the controls. Orac’s continuing ingression and interference could clearly be seen in the blank screens and distorted, fuzzy, flickering images that Sec managed to dredge up.

Sec spent several seconds staring at the screens before opening up a ship-wide communication channel. “Detention Leaders are to check on all prisoners and confirm their status.  All slaves are to return to their quarters for monitoring purposes.  All Daleks be on the lookout for unescorted humans. They are not to be exterminated on sight but brought to me for questioning….” Sec started to say before a line of static drowned him out. It didn’t matter how much he tried to clear the interference after that, all that came back was static.

Sec turned his attention back to the attendant Dalek. “You will go to visit the prisoners being held in Section 2 under my personal authority, ascertain their status and report back directly to me.”

“I obey.”

“Crap!” Jack announced as the voice of Sec came over the loudspeakers. 

“I think your escape has been noticed,” Picard offered mildly.

“Well, that’s certainly one way of putting things, Captain. I’m not sure I’d be that polite,” Jack retorted.

“Politeness aside, we need to finish what we came to do, and get out of here,” Avon added and looked up at the nearest security cameras. “Which way Orac?”

“This way,” Data announced taking them quickly down a different corridor.

Dr Beverly Crusher, the acting caption of the  _ Enterprise, _ paced the small battle bridge as the bottom half of the ship moved closer to its saucer section, putting itself between it and the Borg sphere. “Are they trying to make contact at all?” she worried.

“No ma’am.”

“Are we sure our comms are working?”

“From the Battle Bridge? Yes ma’am. 

All channels are open.”

Crusher nibbled thoughtfully on her bottom lip. “So why aren’t they contacting us?” she mused. “It’s odd, but surely that must be a good thing?”

“Sir, a platoon of Daleks have just launched towards the Borg sphere,” Anya announced.

“Give me a visual.”

Everyone on the Battle Bridge watched as a couple of platoons of Daleks swam across space towards the Borg sphere without the need of space ships, to guard against the hard vacuum of space.

Allenby gasped at the sight, while Beverly did her best to hide her dismay. The doctor  had not realised that Dalek’s could survive the hard vacuum of space before and made a mental note to find out what had happened to the invading Dalek’s which they’d expelled from various parts of the  _ Enterprise. _ Perhaps they were not dead as she’d hoped.

Meanwhile, the response from the Borg ship towards the Daleks was immediate. 

Dancing green fire lashed out from several portals on the sphere, enveloping the free-swimming Daleks.

The crew of the  _ Enterprise _ winced in preparation for the flash of white light which would show that the Daleks had met their fate.

It didn’t happen. 

“Oh my…” Anya breathed, as spherical shields encased each of the Daleks, their progress apparently not hindered by the laser fire.

There were now a dozen Daleks surrounding Orac. A dozen very frustrated and hate-filled Daleks who were completely unable to reach the clear plastic brain in a box built by Ensor. 

Orac was in its element and loved it. 

While the Daleks were numerous, devious, clever and intelligent, patience was not their strong suit; it was Orac’s. Every attempt the Dalek’s had made to extract Orac from the force-field surrounding it, had, by and large, resulted in a strengthening of the forcefield, and putting Orac even further from their reach.

Unfortunately and frustratingly for the Daleks however, Orac was no longer paying the individuals surrounding it much attention.

Orac had also been very curious when the Borg had abruptly materialised in orbit; fascinated by the concept of a working hive mind on a scale large enough to have created such a huge vessel. To date Orac hadn’t met many hive minds that were capable of more than the simplest thoughts or directions; yet the Borg appeared to have melded a myriad of different consciousness’s and cultures together in an obviously working collective.

Orac wasn’t able to infiltrate the Borg’s computer network with quite as much ease or finesse as he had the  _ Enterprise _ or the Dalek’s saucer, but he was able to discern a few interesting snippets of information. The Borg were familiar with the  _ Enterprise _ crew, several fleeting memories of Captain Picard were part of their consciousness, which meant they had to belong from the same time and space. 

That they showed up now could further indicate a greater and more catastrophic collision between the universes that were currently vying for the same intergalactic coordinates. And while Orac was flicking through various live images aboard the sphere, it had noted that Dalek Sec had reacted visibly to the image of a tall skinny man currently leading Blake, Vila and Jenna on an apparent hunt for something. 

To Orac’s inquisitive mind, that alone certainly needed further investigation, even while it noted that many of the  _ Liberator’s _ crew, lost when they’d had to evacuate the ship, were evidently still alive, and in the company of someone from a third parallel universe.

“Halt and identify.”

“I am taking the slaves that were working in Sector 7 back to their holding cell as ordered.”

“You may proceed. And you?

“Repair detail 62 is exempt from the Supreme Leaders order. I am taking these prisoners to continue with their repairs of the computer network.”

“Where is your authorisation?”

“This is my work order.”

The Dalek voices were close. Too close for comfort.

Jack grabbed Servalan, almost without thought, and dived through a convenient doorway, where they ended up with Servalan pressed up against a wall, with Jack’s arms either side of her.

Despite being startled, she had been in the middle of goading Avon after all, Servalan practically purred her approval as Jacks body came into contact with hers and she grinned up at him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” she whispered coquettishly.

Jack had given no thought to Servalan other than moving her from harm's way, but the purr in her voice caught his attention immediately. Not one to be put off by such a presumption, Jack stopped looking at the doorway they’d just jumped through to smile at the woman in his arms. “Captain Jack Harkness at your service ma’am,” he offered.

“Sleer, President Sleer,” Servalan stated softly, making sure she looked as demure and innocent as she knew how.

Jack responded predictably, his grin more genuine. “Well Sleer, President Sleer, it’s a pleasure to meet you too,” he suggested.

Servalan’s smile widened and she moved to run a finger lightly down his chest. “You know, back on my world I could have you shot for laying so much as a finger on me.”

Jack laughed, following her own finger, as it stopped just above his belt.  “Luckily we’re not there then, or you’d have no one left to rescue you.”

“As you say,” Servalan agreed. “You’re different from the others, so how do you fit in with this rabble?”

“Rabble? I thought they were friends of yours?”

“Hardly. I’ve been held a prisoner the same as you.”

“Luckily I came along then.”

“Yes, isn’t it just. Luckily for me at any rate.”

Reacting almost as fast as Captain Jack, Riker reached for Donna Noble; one powerful arm grabbing her around the waist and propelling her backwards.

“Oooooruph!” Donna said explosively as she and Riker powered through the opposite doorway. “Gerr-off me! Just what do you think you’re doing sunshine?” she asked indignantly.

Getting to his feet, Will Riker quickly shut the door and leaned against it while he regained his own breath. “I was trying to save your life,” he retorted. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Donna mumbled, straightening her top. “Did you have to help me so hard though? Good job I’m well padded or I’d be black and blue by the morning.”

Riker grinned.

Donna hit him. “Oi!”

“You said it not me,” Riker pointed out, then winced when he was hit even harder than before. “What was that one for?”

“Just because… well you know. A strange man rugby tackling me to the floor, is not an everyday occurrence, let me tell you... Well, yeah to be fair it might be, with the Doctor around at any rate. Who are you anyway?”

“Me?”

“Well, I don’t see anyone else in here do you?” Donna said looking around. And then looking around some more. The large room they had stumbled into seemed to be filled with computer banks from floor to ceiling. Many series of blue, green and yellow lights running up and down the columns, they were housed in. And there were a great many columns. “Well, at least you’ve found us somewhere useful. Oh…”

“You can say that again,” Riker suggested, looking around him with dismay. 

“I hate to break it to you, but I think this is probably where the Daleks were heading to as well,” he said out loud. “Come on, we’ve got to hide.”

“Nooo! You don’t say!” Donna said sarcastically.

“I’m serious, we’ve got to hide, or blend in somehow?”

“Hide? Where?  All I see is one column after another – I don’t think I can hide away behind one of those, they’re too skinny…” Donna said dubiously. “Now none of your funny comments either, do you hear?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Riker deadpanned, looking around him quickly for a place to conceal themselves. 

All he could see were columns, computer towers, and handles set into the wall. On an impulse he tried one of them, it opened out into a smallish cubby hole. 

He looked at Donna, saw her frown and went to the next one. “You never know, one of these might be big enough. You start over there and…”

Without waiting Donna pulled on the nearest door handle, it didn’t budge. Undeterred, she tried the next one, it did open but it was too shallow, filled with thin wires and small cables. The next one was better, much bigger, but seemed to contain tools that were too big to move.

Rikers third try was the jackpot. “Quickly, over there, I think we should be ok in this one…”

Reluctantly Donna complied.  She wasn’t fond of tight spaces, especially when she was sharing them with a stranger, but she climbed in quickly nonetheless.  “… Oi, mind where you're putting them elbows you.”

“Sorry. Perhaps it would be best if we stopped talking... _or there's little point in us hiding_..." Jack's voice trailed off

“Shush! Yeah, got it." Donna agreed, then poked Riker in the ribs. " You never did say who you were.”

“No, I never did,” Riker said, trying to open the cupboard door a crack to see if the Daleks did indeed follow them into the room.

“Well?”

“I’m Will Riker, First Officer of the  _ Enterprise. _ You?” Riker offered hoping it would shut Donna up.

“Oh, you’re one of the ones they were looking for,” Donna said in surprise. 

Gratified Riker nodded. 

After a beat, he broke their silence again. “And you?”

“Me?”

“Yes…”

Unseen Donna rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t looking for you,” she said seriously.

Darkness hid Riker's grin. 

“No, you are?”

“Donna.”

“Just Donna?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t see you on the planet's surface.”

“Duh, Dumbo, I was on the Tardis with the Doctor when Vila suddenly appeared and I ended up on the  _ Enterprise _ .”

“Beverley was on the Tardis, how did she get there and who’s this Vila chap? Was he the one we rescued in the shuttle?”

“No, the Doctor was in the Tardis, not Beverly. We rescued Vila, well he sort of stumbled in on us. I think you must have rescued Avon, Vila’s friend,” Donna said sounding a bit vague.

Riker sighed. “And before this, I thought I was having a bad day.”

Data and Avon ended up in a broom cupboard. 

Data cautiously pushing Avon down upon a bucket, despite the computer tech’s unsurprising protests. 

“Enough” Avon growled, pushing Data away.

Data looked puzzled. “I am simply making sure that you are comfortable. We do not know how long we will be in here.”

“I doubt it’s going to be any length of time. The Daleks may simply be passing us by,” Avon countered.

Data nodded. “I would suggest that we can not rely on such luck. Especially now that they are aware of our escape…”

“It doesn’t necessarily follow that it is our escape that they have discovered. It could be that other fellow, Jacks,” Avon pointed out.

Data cocked his head on one side as he digested that notion. “You are correct,” he agreed.

“I usually am,” Avon said dryly.

Data looked at Avon. “Nevertheless, it does not follow that they are likely to look for us in here.”

“I doubt hiding in a broom cupboard is hardly going to test their skills at detection,” Avon said acerbically.

“Whilst that is true,” Data agreed, looking quite shocked at the idea. “An initial analyses of the door suggests that it is made of a composite alloy that is resistant to thermal-imaging. We may yet remain undetected.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think we should count on it, nor do I think a door will hold them for long. Is there any other way out you’re able to detect?” he asked looking around him.

Data scanned the walls, then the floor and ceiling. “I do not believe so no. There are a great many power conduits in this area, and while the grating on the floor might have proved to be an avenue of escape as it does seem to be some kind of drainage duct, I do not believe you are in a physical state capable of utilising it, thus it must be discounted.”

Moving quickly, her reactions lighting fast, despite having fainted sometime ago and having nothing to eat or drink since Dayna dived at Geordi. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pulled them both backwards against a door they had just past, hoping that it would open.

Geordi was too surprised to protest as they fell through the now open door and landed with bone-jarring force against the floor.

Dayna was on her feet almost immediately, scanning their surroundings.


End file.
